Salvation
by Chessa Kaye
Summary: The weight of his isolation and his own failures smothering him, Michael has given free rein to his rage. Furiad sets into motion events that mean the end of man and angel kind. Can Michael survive to undo the unimaginable? Will love alter destiny? In the turmoil of heaven's families in their war for dominion of earth, can there be salvation for anyone?
1. Chapter 1

Dominion fan fiction

So… this happened because of Vaun Wilmott's 'Dominion' embedded with its weapon of enchantment, Tom Wisdom as Michael. I love that Vaun created a multi-dimensional, fascinating Michael to address the perils of his dynamic 'Dominion' world. I am entranced by how Tom inhabits that with his complex expression, his physicality and the skillful deployment of the intricate details of his engaging, powerful portrayal. Their creation of Michael's predicament picked at my mind like a kind of lunacy. (Thanks, you guys.) I needed Michael to find some of what he required. I don't own Dominion, its plots, places or people. I do own where I deviate from there with imaginative insertions, characters and ideas. Michael, Uriel/Laurel, Furiad, Gabriel, David Whele, Becca Thorn, Louis, Alex Lannon, Noma Banks and Evelyn/Arika are characters created by Vaun Wilmott and borrowed here for a brief meandering. Have fun engrossed in the world of 'Dominion' spun with threads from my wild collection. Inspired by Season 1 and the first trailer for Season 2. Story art is borrowed from a beautiful fan art poster by AssassinoC.

****Please note this is not the first time 'Salvation' was published here. I wrote and published it before S2 began. When deciding whether or not to add a chapter I'd written, I accidently deleted it and did not repost. A dear reader contacted me saying she needed some comfort after one of Vaun Wilmott's heart wrenching episodes and was going to read 'Salvation' again but couldn't find it. I reposted that same day. My readers are important to me and I love hearing from you. Thank you, Eziliveve, for requesting the story's return. ****

Chapter 1

Furiad's Folly

Michael found another abandoned house in the middle of nowhere and flew down to settle in for…however long. Standing in front of the tattered door, he shook his head at its absurd tenacity. He tapped it with his index finger and watched it crumble into a pile of dust. He stepped through the unguarded threshold and set the sack he carried down within reach of a pathetic excuse for a sofa.

There was a large dining table on its side at the opposite end of the room. He lifted it with one hand and wedged it in to substitute for the former door. He turned and sat down hard on the mostly shredded sofa and judging it would support him reclined, propping himself up on the pile of frayed pillows there with a satisfied "Ahhh." Breaking open one of the bottles he carried in the sack, he scoffed with a sneer recalling his most recent plunder.

He had raided a small settlement. It all began as had become typical. First, he found their church or tent of worship…whatever makeshift ramshackle that the straggled population could assimilate to their needs. Here it was a small shed with walls of cardboard, roof of tin. Standing within the church, reverently, quietly and with a desperate hopefulness , Michael listened with every fiber of his being, after having called out - "Father, I'm here. I need you, please. Are you listening? Are you here?" The silence was all he would leave with… once again.

Exiting the hallowed shack, Michael delivered one blow to the wall with the back of his hand toppling the church- of- no -satisfaction into a heap as the archangel casually walked on. Michael needed no more disappointment to feed his despair and the standing house of faith's empty promise offended him.

Hoping for some relief, but knowing he would not get any beyond the distraction of the flavor, Michael had then taken up some food items and the entire supply of drinking alcohol in the community. He was leaving with it when several men charged him shouting for him to stop. Michael's intended tools of distraction were crucial to the settlers for more than the uninhibiting effects of the liquid. They used it as antiseptic, as anesthesia. They had to salvage some of it.

Michael resented the interference. Fury rose up in his breast, unbridled. He loved that sensation. It felt better than the brokenness he carried in his silent solitude. He welcomed being filled with the surge of this familiar thing he knew so intimately. He dropped the collection of goods he held and drew his swords hissing a laugh through his smirk at their foolishness. They were no match. They lay slain at the mighty archangel's feet. He was not satisfied.

His thirst for blood demanded to be quenched. He let it wash over him, let it take him away from his grief. He continued the slaughter, killing with impunity, with pleasure until nothing was left alive. He even killed the settlement's domestic animals. For a moment he was smugly satisfied. Then he saw what he had wrought.

The crooked smile left his expression. He swallowed hard. He felt…shame. No matter. This is what he was. He brushed the annoying prick of otherness aside. This was real, this blood, these deaths. It was honest. No deceptions. This was pure. If this is what came to him, this is what he would take. He sheathed his bloody blades, reacquired his plunder and exploded like a missile into the air. He flew high above the ruin in his wake.

A Great Blue Heron was there in flight. He matched its pace. He admired the creature. It killed and ate anything it could swallow that didn't kill it first. He regarded it as a fellow master of deadly arts. It felt no guilt at its own nature. He envied that. Michael banked away from the lesser avian and descended to earth. He had seen a place to shelter.

Now, in this found collapsing structure, he picked at the sorry food. He found everything unappetizing and so shoved it aside and drank the liquid spoils until he restlessly slept, a half consumed bottle of Scotch whisky perched precariously at his side on the edge of the mangled couch. The contents of the multiple empties on the floor had occupied him until he achieved some state of rest.

Archangels possessed a bilateral brain. Only half of the mind slept at a time. They were never unaware unless medically unconscious. So it was that Michael could hear the winged ones speeding to his location. His marauding had made him trackable and there were those who would gladly take the opportunity to apprehend him. Would it be Alex and his elite with a band of angels…Gabriel… the new angel hunters? Everyone wanted a piece of him. His two blades were at the ready as Fruiad crashed through the roof. They stood face to face with lethal intent etched onto them as if it were part of their bodies.

"Machta duaa enyo " (You dare much) Michael said to the higher angel in their native language. Furiad grinned. His eyes did not. "Ashsho machta duaa enyo , Soleairda" (You are no longer much to dare, Archangel) Furiad flew at Michael in an attempt to get him off balance so that his waiting legion could move on the archangel. He had taunted Michael with a slight to his skill, but the fact was , there was nothing of heaven or earth as dangerous a weapon as Michael. Furiad had brought his best for this attack, but sent in lesser skilled first to make Michael complacent and wear him down. They swarmed him now.

Michael was under siege by a force of 500 angels. He had efficiently and quite gleefully slain 300 when the 200 strong High Guard engaged. They attacked him from every side at once. He avoided their lethal empyrean steel blades with agility, grace and remarkable tactical moves only a being made for such a contest could muster. Their battle raged in the sky and on terra firma.

Thunder clapped as the angelic beings broke the sound barrier repeatedly in their onslaught. The air thickened as a fog of ozone bled from the fractured atmosphere lending a blue haze to the surroundings. Moisture leached from the beleaguered air. Michael lashed out with wings and swords. With sweeping kicks and jabbing leg thrusts he lunged, spun and sliced in a harmony of lethal art that played like a bloody symphony. He was magnificent. The bodies of the slain multiplied.

Failing to make any headway towards Michael's demise, Furiad now employed one of heaven's weapons against him- an act that was forbidden by threat of being unmade. But their Father was not here and only He could order the unmaking. He deployed the weapon. It was a large undulating living membrane that clung unrelentingly with claw tipped tendrils that dove deep into flesh.

To the one in its grasp, it delivered electrical charges in rapid succession interrupting ability to access muscle function. The beast had a stinger appendage with which, after having felled its quarry, the beast would deliver paralytic toxin, allowing it to feed on its still living prey. It was flung onto Michael during this blitzkrieg.

Michael slashed at the 'Welrupt' that embraced him with one sword, immediately amputating the stinger threat. He continued to keep the High Guard at bay with the other, having pierced through the damnable creature. The incessant charges the beast continued to fire through Michael's body finally knocked him to one knee, whereupon Furiad and his forces besieged the archangel en masse and subdued him, having killed and removed the 'Welrupt' in the process.

Pinned beneath his enemy, Michael was brutally beaten. The sickening sound of fist and staff and hilt of sword delivering crushing blows to his body and his pained reaction to the worst of the blows cut the thick atmosphere. Michael threw them off from him, but they rallied. They beat him to stillness, to silence, to unconsciousness.

Furiad stood over Michael with a satisfied smile of success. The High Guard whooped their victory call. The Welrupt's keeper sadly collected its remains. Furiad lifted his foe by the loose of his clothing and brought his face close intending to gloat. The archangel groaned slightly as, limply, his head more rolled toward Furiad than turned.

Annoyed and furious that the archangel could still move at all, Furiad reared back his fist and roaring with rage applied all his might to hammer Michael's bloodied body to the ground. Michael crashed to the bedrock with such force where heat from the friction did not cause the rock to soften enough to be indented to Michaels form, it shattered. Furiad put his foot to Michael's chest prepared to resume his assault if he saw any sign of consciousness. He did not. The newest bloody slice at the height of his cheek bone and at the corner of Michael's mouth contented Furiad with his victory.

Gabriel had ordered that no one, under any circumstances, was to kill his beloved brother. Furiad, leader of the Second Sphere's warrior angel High Guard believed Michael had to be removed from the battle equation permanently in order for angels to have any opportunity for victory over the humans and gain dominion over the earth. And frankly, Furiad just didn't like the "strutting, over -puffed peacock". So he continually pursued the archangel and plotted his end.

He would have been satisfied if Michael had been killed in the skirmish. It would have kept Gabriel from assigning Michael's death to any specific angel and they could just as easily have blamed it on human mob violence. Since Michael had not yet been terminated, Furiad went to a plan "B" which also skirted the "no kill" edict of his commander. He grabbed the back of Michael's collar and flying quickly brought the captured archangel to a band of hunters. They gathered angelic subjects for a laboratory that was the brainchild of Vega politician David Whele.

Becca Thorn had been in charge of scientific research and that included angel research in Vega. Whele had 'negotiated' her into also reporting what she knew of the archangel, Michael. Whele had discovered the intimate association between Becca and Michael and coerced her to the work. He would squeeze whatever he could from her as long as he could.

He knew she would withhold the most crucial bits. Moreover, he suspected Becca would never do what would inevitably be necessary to know how to end the threat to humanity those archangels were, but anything on the archangel's physiology or psychology would be beneficial to defend Vega. So this move was quite a coup.

Unfortunately Becca's contributions became moot when her lover left her murdered on the floor of her lab, her neck snapped. Whele had sneered to himself at her funeral thinking, 'Like that outcome should have been a surprise.' Whele , as many humans , felt all angels were murderous. Hell, archangels were made to be ultimate killers and they were all savage, deceitful, creatures. He'd always known Michael would turn on them.

Not one to ever put all of his eggs into one basket, Whele had already founded and initiated a research lab to do the kind of work he felt was demanded. He'd long known a larger scale research facility than Vegas' was necessary. Now Whele focused on his mega lab's research. It expanded into more areas. Whele's lab didn't wait for an angel to drop out of the sky to study them. His teams of human scientists were having higher angels actively hunted and subjected to the most invasive research in order to find their weaknesses and facilitate the creation of weapons to fight them.

These scientists' and Whele had developed an additional project, one that stood to alter the course of human history. They had begun harvesting angels for organ transplants and gene splicing. They intended to apply those to volunteers in an effort to make humans more invincible. According to current knowledge, that would avoid the pitfalls of Nephilim and still grant advantages.

Never satisfied with enough, Whele pushed the envelope. He ordered them to carry the research further. Whele and his ever ambitious lead scientist still planned to create Nephilim… and they would generate clones. The head scientist had a geneticist capable of altering character traits to make both forbidden and at risk forms of angel viable. Their goal was the formation of a corps of enhanced humanity who would command a human created, human loyal angelic force.

It was to this Furiad brought Michael. Being ruthlessly practical in warfare matters, Furiad believed this delivery of Michael to the human's lab project to be a two- birds –with- one- stone move; a way to, at once, stop the research team's hunters, keeping his legion safe from capture and eliminate their formidable foe. He had found the camped lab hunters earlier and flying down to them , now dropped the still unconscious Michael without ceremony. Keeping himself airborne and out of the able hunters' reach, Furiad uttered a quick instruction and left.

Furiad had decided not to tell the humans their new lab subject was the defender of humanity nor did he tell them he had given them an archangel. Furiad was not as far-sighted as he imagined himself in his tactical plot. Though his plan was brilliant in the short run, on deeper look it reeked of folly. His actions held the threat of disaster. With the implementation of this secret human project underway Furiad, unawares, had just delivered the greatest weapon against his kind into the hands of their most ruthless enemy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Delivery

Dr. Jillian Anders was in her small but tasteful apartment within the lab complex when she received the call that a new higher angel had been acquired. That meant new DNA, new genetic possibilities, new insights. She was head Geneticist here at Simonfeld, Madison, Huddle Laboratories, a highly secret lab financed by the leaders of all of the enclaves in the cradle, headed by David Whele of Vega.

Jillian was petite, brunette, fair, and pretty. Her projected inner self made her beautiful. Jillian was a middle aged woman who looked 20 years younger than she was and didn't correct people's age assumptions. It was often an advantage, especially in the sciences, to be possessed of more experiential intellect than expected.

Jillian was also just plain brilliant. She learned quickly and loved knowledge. She was a medical doctor with what was this new world's equivalent of a Ph. D in genetics and a Master's in psychology. She had done extensive study in what would be called her 'undergraduate degree' work, in anthropology. She was not only mentally strong, she was quite athletic. She loved martial arts and was master of a unique discipline.

She was also very spiritual in that she felt connected to something greater than herself. She knew she should have been broken or dead many times over, according to the laws of physics and she knew someone else had been beside her in those times of threat. She felt it. No one cheated the fates as often as she had without help.

Everyone always thought she was just being silly when, as a child, she said she didn't have to believe, she KNEW that God and angels were real …until the angels showed up. She'd always been able to "hear" thoughts from creatures and people. She'd been told she was psychic several times, but never thought that was what she was. She referred to herself as being empathic. Her insights had saved her life several times during the Extermination Wars. Lack of proximity kept her from saving her family. She was alone now.

When she got the angel call, she put on her lab coat, gloves and protective eyewear and went to the hot room – their name for the main lab's operating theatre. She didn't like many aspects of this project but it was utilizing all of her skills to the betterment of mankind, so the science was being used for good so far…though, she had doubts and they were growing daily.

She turned the corner from the dormitory wing into the main laboratory. She knew an angel was there before she went through the main science lab's doors. It felt like her blood fizzed and that sensation tickled a bit when one was close. She twitched, nearly imperceptibly, at the outset of the sensation. Then it subsided. She never slowed her progress during her body's 'angel alert' experience and entered the large lab through its hermetically sealed entryway.

Jillian greeted a few of the other lab occupants as she approached the table where the new subject lay. One of the young interns was the center of attention of four other technicians standing in a group she passed. She overheard the source of their interest: "A higher angel dropped him off! Do you believe that?! Darrin said he told them to 'Take everything from him. Leave no evidence of him. Beware of him,' the tech was recounting.

How extraordinary, she thought. She knew the Neurologists would have already inserted the neural interrupters that would keep the powerful being from use of legs, arms or wings - keep him still - so there was only scientific interest on her mind. But the oddity of an angel delivering a fellow angel to… this… registered and piqued her curiosity. She considered the delivering angels words. What would cause angels to fear their own so much? Then she turned and saw the captive angel. She actually gasped. She was grateful it was not audible.

The sight of this angel affected her greatly. He looked more like an art form than the threat his fellow angel warned of him. She had seen the greatest classical art and sculpture, including Michelangelo's sculpture, David, on a childhood family trip to Europe and had been moved to tears by its extraordinary beauty and lifelike quality. She thought this could be Michelangelo's model.

He was tall, athletically slender, etched with muscling. There was intensity to his person even in repose. And like the sculpture of David, this angel had distinctive, graceful hands with veining prominent to nourish the strength there. He had skin that looked like the polished marble Michelangelo favored. He had mid length, tousled, dark brown hair, strong jaw, full lips and an elegant exotic face that fairly glowed. There was one difference, where any moment during her study of David she expected breath to issue, here it did.

She watched the rise and fall of his well- muscled chest and abdomen, observed the strong pulse at his throat and witnessed the life it represented. She loved life and all of its wondrous evidence. His being disrobed, she appreciated the fullness of his attributes, aesthetically and clinically. Yes, Michelangelo might have sculpted this angel as David, but he had not done him justice. She smiled inwardly but gave no indication of her theory. It wouldn't have mattered to anyone there. They did not require beauty. They were very much the do-it-because-we- can types. They could even be cruel because of their propensity toward the emotionless pursuit of hard science. In many ways, she believed they were barbarians. They tromped where a lighter tread would serve. They wanted to make creation subject to their whim. She was not like them.

She saw the sciences as building blocks of something more extraordinary, something that transcended the sum of its parts. She sought to understand the intricate design that worked toward the harmonious balances that made creation blossom and flourish. Now she thought she'd love to play with the chemistry set the Creator used to make this angel. That is part of why she studied genetics. She thought there was a substantial set of the keys to that remarkable chemistry there.

The angel stirred. The effects of the subduing assault were wearing off now. His breathing changed. A slight moan signaled he was consciously aware of the lingering aches that remembered the cause of his involuntary sleep. His eyes opened. Their blue was astounding. Angels were that…astounding, Jillian mused. It did not take him long to assess his situation.

An expression of fury flashed into place. It was terrifying. The entire company took a step back. The angel spoke. "Who are you and what do you want?" It was a voice that carried the gravity of ancient authority but was, she thought, utterly velvet in its controlled under texture. Its force was effective subliminally. It made you hear him through to your bones and feel the impulse to do what was bidden. No other angel's voice had had this effect. Who was this?

The doctors all froze momentarily at the impact, but recovered. Michael had just sent an impulse, not an imperative. Had those present been possessed of lesser intelligence, the impulse would have been obeyed, but these did not answer. It was a move on the scientists' part to establish that no matter his former standing, the angel was now their property. The archangel recognized the tactic. He clenched his jaw and faced the ceiling considering his inhibited condition. This did not bode well.

He had been deriving exceptional pleasure from the heat of battle against formidable opposition, then the gravest of crimes, the unauthorized use of one of heaven's weapons against its archangel was committed. Now this. What had Furiad done? Michael attempted again to, but could not move his arms. His legs did not respond either. His wings lay still despite his bidding. Whatever was at hand, he would have to endure. He began mental preparations for an impending assault on his person. Instead he was being questioned.

"What is your name? I am Jillian." He did not respond. If Furiad had not told them who he was, he would not reveal his identity yet. The woman spoke again. "Are you a member of the Second Sphere?" Her voice was strong, deep, dulcet in quality… even sultry. He appreciated that. Her speech indicated she was exceptionally educated and there was a cadence which he recognized as evidence she had spent time in Helena. If she had been educated there, she would be capable of using language as deftly as he used his swords. He considered the higher strata of the women of Helena to be virtual sirens. He admired their skills. They were substantial for humans and they were not to be underestimated. He determined he would not respond.

Jillian half smiled and looked at the floor briefly. Most angels were anxious to tell their names and brag of their stature in heaven's army. This angel did not require heralding. She began, then, to suspect he was actually as exceptional as he appeared. She registered a resigned expression and said," Very well." She watched his expression for a second before turning to leave. She was several steps away when he spoke. "You should kill me now, otherwise you will all die by my sword." It was not a boast he offered. It was more the statement of an inevitable fact. He was not proud of it. She detected by his tone the fact saddened him.

She turned and returned to his side. She looked down at his immobilized, hand. She took it up in her hand and was going to wait for something to reveal itself. But she did not have to wait. Vague images crashed on her mind. They insinuated violence, slaughter, devastation and something else there was, too. She spoke first of the destruction. Looking at the exquisite, masculine hand she held she said, "These are a weapon of mass destruction." He corrected her. "I am that".

Still regarding the hand she held she said, "Yes, but… I think you are much more than that." Then she looked to his eyes to find any evidence that he might know that of himself. There was darkness, fury, power, rage …then a flash as he glanced briefly aside. It was there-emotional anguish. Whatever else drove him in his destructive activities, he was more and struggled to gauge his nature. The glimpse she had of his Light, his capacity to love was truth. But he was about to pay a high cost for the threat he was to his own kind. She decided she would help as she could to ease the way somewhat, though what was to be she could not stop.

She felt a wave of compassion leave her and descend on the angel. She had sent her intentions to other people in this way before without any expectation. It was so intense for her she always hoped it held some soothing manifestation, but no one had ever made mention. She thought it would be the same in this case, but the angel's almost imperceptible expression of surprised confusion meant he had received her unexpected offering. He looked questioningly at her having never experienced such a thing. He cocked his head as if trying to listen to a whisper and tenuously asked, "What was that?" It was her turn not to respond. She felt unsettled by his sensitivity to her. She gave an ever so slight nod of acknowledgment that he received her message, turned and left.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Observations

Michael watched her go. He liked what he saw, but this was not the time or place for such distraction. He watched her despite himself. Who was this person who could give form to goodwill? He found himself wishing there was time to know her. He sensed there was not. She stopped and spoke to a group of grey coated lab technicians who all scrambled to do her bidding. She was through the large hermetic doors before the group to whom she had spoken completely dispersed.

Michael sighed. He analyzed the room for escape strategies: Proximity of potential weapons, ingress and egress, structural surroundings and their weak points, the travel patterns of the personnel indicating most used areas, who of the personnel visible were least and most threat and much more that was part of his perception, but didn't clutter his primary tactical determinations.

He could sense the change in air pressure that resulted from the movement of a person or thing if there was no obstruction between them. He could identify each individual by the scent of their pheromones. He felt the temperature change that resulted from another individual's entering his sphere of perception. He could hear their breathing, their heartbeat, the sound of an eye blinking. If it was very quiet and he focused, he could hear the electrical snap, crackle of synapses of those around him. It was not maddening noise to him. It was the symphony of life. He appreciated it but could filter it when required. At times even he was in awe of the gifts his Father had given him. They allowed him such a marvelous depth of perception and experience of all around him.

His present observation indicated this was a lab like none he had seen. Its level of advanced structure and the technical advancement of some of the equipment was an indication that this was not a standard institution. The way sound traveled and the difference in atmospheric pressure told him that this place was underground. His final evaluation indicated that there was no immediate opportunity for escape. Now, his thoughts drifted to other considerations.

There would be no one who wondered at his whereabouts. His actions had rendered him a pariah in all circles. The humans had ejected him from the city he'd helped found and defended for having secretly and illegally offered sanctuary to a pacifist group of angels. Those were angels who knew him and might have become allies, might have been concerned about him at some point. They were all killed trying to flee Vega. His lieutenant, Noma was a prisoner of Gabriel's or he may have killed her or perhaps she changed allegiance. If she had heard of his last actions in Vega, who could blame her.

Michael was certain Gabriel ordered this, his current state of capture, there having been such a large force sent to subdue him and bring him here. Decidedly, he was in deep shit, as Alex would have said. He thought about the boy now and hoped he was continuing on his path to becoming all the Chosen One needed to be for humanity. Michael had heard Alex was leading a band of humans and former Gabriel followers. He roved the frontiers protecting humans and building an army. Perhaps Noma was with him.

Alex was leading angels and humans. A good sign, Michael thought. His recollections of The Child were trounced, as they always were these days, by the memory of his own actions against the treasured boy... and Becca. He looked away from it physically as if to erase the thought of his attack on one he pledged his protection… on people he loved. It was not the first time he had fallen from his purpose in this way. Perhaps what was to come was punishment for his mismanagement of himself. What he did know was he was quite alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Business of the Lab

The small swarm of technicians approaching with rolling, clanking trays of implements and vials and equipment meant the business of the lab would soon be underway. He had seen what Becca had done to his friend, Louis in the name of research and the protection of mankind. Her betrayal of her word to him to protect Louis and the atrocities she had subjected the gentle soul to were what ignited his murderous rage. He had killed her for it. He tried to ease his guilt with the idea that had she not also lied about having Furiad's blade, which she knew would kill his kind…kill him, perhaps he would not have executed her. It had been the proverbial last straw.

He regretted his actions, but there was no denying the extent of her wrong to Louis and to their trust and love. Still, he had done worse slaughter of his own kind in protecting humanity. And four thousand years ago, he had betrayed his own oath of service to humanity…a promise to his Father- a far greater transgression than that of a lover's deception.

He was nearly killed for his wrongful behavior, but he was given the opportunity to learn from his error, to seek redemption. Didn't Becca deserve as much? Certainly. There could be no dispensation from his atrocity. He was wrong to have ended her life. He should have exercised better control. He had failed to be merciful to her. How ironic that he was now in the hands of likeminded people. He knew he would be subjected to no less than Louis had been at Becca's hands. Poetic justice? Perhaps.

One of the techs threw a paper surgical blanket over him. It was rough and scratched. He regarded it with distain. He did not like unrefined fabric against his skin. He thought it was more comfortable without it. Modesty was not an affliction of angelic individuals. A team of surgeons and research scientists were now all around him. One held a scalpel. It was time to set his formidable mind to the task of controlling the effects of their invasion.

In her lab, Jillian began to receive samples taken from the angel for genetic analysis and preparation for gene splicing to designated human recipients. Also there was prep for the future samples for cloning attempts and the cultivation of Nephilim embryos. It did not take long for her to see dramatic differences in what she was receiving from this angel compared to other angelic genetic specimens. The most basic analysis indicated he was something else.

She finished labeling and prepping what she had and decided to return to the main lab to see if she could get any further information from the angel. Then she hesitated. What if he were screaming with pain? The others had been at this stage. The surgeons and researchers considered that an unfortunate necessity as no known anesthesia worked on their kind. The idea of any living thing in pain was disturbing, but the idea of this angel in pain made her stomach tie in knots.

She collected herself and went to the operating theatre. She opened the main lab's doors. There was quiet. The surgical team was still in place. She could see a bit of blood. She felt her head take a spin. A physician… dizzy at the sight of blood. "Outrageous," she said under her breath angrily. She continued to approach. It seemed to take forever. Then the surgical team broke ranks. She could see their nurses closing for the doctors who were stripping off their gloves and surgical wear. "Damn!" She could hear one young doctor exclaim. He saw her walking up," Jillian! This one is a mystery. He's got organs we've never seen!" She could hear the angel's irregular breathing . It was quite labored. She worried if he had suffered too much as she responded to the excited young surgeon, "Really Ben? Like what?"

"We don't know. He won't say anything. But we were measuring capacities and Dr. Simonfeld clamped the heart to time how long it took to flat line. ..which was like for- ever in this one's case…awesome of itself…and we were about to resuscitate when one of them lit up like a firefly! When Doc unclamped the heart, the thing fired a charge and resuscitated him on its own! Fried the tar out of Carlton's hand! He's out for the duration. It was damned amazing! Hey, how were the initial genetics?"

"All good," she said. "He died, you said?"

Off handedly the young surgeon said, "Yeah, a few times…you know…controlled circumstances. He's fine now. We'll estimate his rebound healing, which should be high judging from our initial investigations and go again. We'll start with your stuff and…" Jillian forced an approving smile and nod then stopped the young man indicating her need to catch the approaching person. The young doctor glanced at the man in question and indicating his understanding, scuttled away.

She really didn't need to talk to anyone. She just didn't want to hear the enthusiastic doctor's outline. All of this was relatively standard for their research, but she didn't have to like it. The head of the lab, Dr. Simonfeld, approached her now. She looked past him and could see the surgical nurse finishing her work and clean up. "Jillian, my office in 15…gotta talk about this one." He said as he passed her. "Right," she replied and waited as everyone filed out.

In the quiet she could hear the angel continue struggling to meter his breath as part of a pain management process. She walked to his bed side. There was perspiration on his brow. His eyes were closed. He was blanched from pain and blood loss. His body trembled lightly from the stress it had been delivered. The "Y" cut of a full thoracic exploratory dissection marred his person. The incision was stapled closed, standard procedure. She went to a nearby linen locker, took out cotton blankets and replaced the paper sheet the nurses left covering him. She wasn't sure why she did this, but it was appropriate. She waited for him to regain composure.

Shortly his breathing quieted and the trembling stopped as he mentally steered his body away from shock. Having gained control, he opened his eyes. He regarded the cotton blankets approvingly. They were soft… and they aided him in thermoregulation. "They helped," he said to the woman- of- the- blankets. "Thank you." His voice was roughened from the strain of his ordeal. "You're welcome," she said admiring his mental acuity and thoughtfulness to acknowledge the small kindness under the circumstances.

"Will you tell me your name, please?" She asked him. "No," he said. "Why?" she pressed. He didn't respond. Jillian continued, "I know you are not the same as other angels. Genetically you are superior to the ones we have studied. Dramatically. That makes you a new category of angel. The research teams will be excessively interested in you. Can you tell me anything that will lessen their investigative fervor? Please." She genuinely wanted to spare him whatever she could by learning more through conversation rather than the surgically invasive version her co-scientists would perform.

"You're doing genetic work?" He asked suddenly quite alarmed. His intensity returned. Before she answered he asked, "To what end?" She told him the full extent of their mission. Michael was fully aware of his threat to…everything… if this project utilized his genetics. He had always known he was the greatest existing weapon against mankind and angel kind by more than his nature and physical skills. He knew if the humans used him in their project, no one and nothing would be safe.

Michael's nature prevented him from being commanded by any but his Father. No form of him beyond this that he was would be manageable. Without the wholeness of his practiced, disciplined control, his many trials and lessons which tempered him, Michael's Nephilim, his clones and genetic recipients would rape creation and leave it laid waste by the power they would wield and the consumption of his rage and bloodlust. Michael could be the instrument of Universal Armageddon. Now, because of Furiad's disobedience, Michael was in the hands of people who could and would make that of him.

Michael strained in an attempt to sit upright and blurted at the geneticist, "You mustn't incorporate me in you plan! You will destroy all of Father's creation with your project. Believe me, you must stop! " Shooting pain took the concentration he was about to apply to an imperative command to stop the geneticist from her work. It was too soon to play that card any way.

Michael winced. He had strained several staples open and was bleeding through them at his abdomen. The physician quieted him. "Lie back, angel." She reached to draw up a restraining strap across his chest and realized how useless that would be. He could not sit up because of the neuro inhibitors installed at the back of his head and if he could sit up his superior strength would snap it easily. She dropped the strap then replaced the staples.

To himself Michael registered annoyance with the metal cinching his flesh. Sutures were less bothersome in his opinion. "They _would_ be less irritating," Jillian said aloud to his unspoken dialogue. He didn't respond but, that she had heard his silent musings intrigued him. Once her measures had done their work, she stepped back. Jillian looked at him considering his earlier words of caution. He waited with anticipation for her to address the situation. "Will you cease this endeavor?" He asked. "I'm sorry," she said and she left. He stared after her with grave concern… and fascination.

Michael sifted through what she had told him. It only deepened his worry. Higher angel genetics and transplants used to enhance men leading angel clones and Nephilim were bad enough. It was brilliant and done correctly may even work. Humanity had the ability. But now they were going to use him. All that he was, was realized fully in every aspect of his being. Any gene splice would make the recipient as dangerous as a Nephilim by him.

If any human received a transplant of any kind from him they would be physically superior to anyone who had ever been, save him. But they would not be…sane. Mentally they would not be able to rein in the darker aspects of what he was. They would be monstrous afflictions to all creation. He had to think how to prevent this.

More doctors walked in interrupting his ponderance. There would be more examinations of him through the night. Jillian was right. They were positively giddy with anticipation. He would have to rally much to meet their onslaught.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Decisions

Jillian could not sleep. She had played with the idea of how incredible it would be to have this new angel cloned a few times over, to have his genes part of man but his reaction to her work gave considerable pause. His genetics were so singular. She wasn't sure how they would affect a recipient. Or even if they should be dedicated elsewhere. The angel truly feared the prospect and not for himself. His genetics were being fully mapped by the computer now. She would have more answers soon.

Because she felt so exposed with this individual, she sought to distance herself from his affects. She steeled herself against him by trying to minimize him. Who was this angel anyway with his doom saying and glowy designer organs? Why should she care about his opinion or anything regarding him. She had important affairs to attend and in spite of his unique genetics, he was just another angel enemy. Enough thought in his behalf. She was going to sleep. She would rise refreshed in the morning and do her job. She was on the cutting edge of her field and …"Ahhh," she breathed exasperatedly. It was no use. She dressed. She would go to the lab and visit the angel. Get more information. Information would help.

She was surprised to find a surgical team working. She did not enter the lab, but watched through the door. They hadn't given the angel any recovery time. This was not good. They must be taking the delivery angel's advice seriously. They would harvest all they could, test the current known weapons for efficacy on him, and incinerate any remains. She made her way back to her lab. She needed to know more about this angel and fast. Something there was about him that gripped her.

She found herself considering if he was worth what it would cost her to save him. The idea that she should save him at all surprised her. That was not in her game plan. But something continued to nag at her for hours as she occupied herself in her genetics lab. The idea repeated itself: Save. Him. Until it was clear that the thought was not a thought. It was a mandate. She needed her contacts in Helena.

She went to the surface. It looked just like the rest of the wilderness around her. There was no visible evidence of the compound beneath. She removed her earrings and connected them together. She programmed them quickly with her message then placed the signaling device on a rock in such a way that it was concealed from the camouflaged watch towers but could flash its signal to the distant cliffs. A single flash returned indicating that her signal was received. Now she waited impatiently.

She knew the angel didn't have much time. Hours, maybe. With no recovery time, he could not continue to sustain the kind of ravaging her colleagues would impart. "Come on," she hissed at the night. A flicker indicated incoming message by drone. She made her way to the predesignated drone drop site. The silent little mosquito hawk type device landed at her feet. She extracted a chip and hurried back to her own apartment. There she undertook to get the information it contain.

There were three possibilities for the identity of her angel. The first two were not a match. The third caused her to sit slack jawed for a moment. There was an article in the Vega newspaper. It outlined the escapades of their disgraced defender, the Archangel Michael. **'Marauding Archangel Lays Waste'** , it read. There was a photo. It was the angel in the lab. She read on:

 **Michael was seen by a witness who escaped the slaughter at Beechman's Run, a small settlement outside New Delphi. Davis Whitman encountered the archangel in the settlement's house of worship. Having just returned from a hunting trip, Whitman had gone in to pray and seeing a man he did not recognize at the alter caused interest.**

 **Whitman said he noticed a pair of swords on a chair and inquired about them to the man. According to Whitman he picked one up and noticed the blood on it. Whitman said he then asked the stranger, "What'd you kill?" When the man turned to respond, Whitman recognized it was the Archangel Michael. Whitman said the seething archangel replied, "Everything."**

 **According to Whitman, the archangel then turned to depart, sheathed his notorious twin blades, and lifting Whitman with one hand he then threw Whitman to the floor. Exiting, Whitman reports, Michael pushed over a bank of lit candles to burn the place of worship to the ground with Whitman left to burn to death inside. Whitman said he rolled out of the burning building via an opening in a side wall out of the sight of the archangel. He is the sole survivor of the community.**

 **Asked why he thought they were targeted, Whitman said," I don't think the archangel needs a reason. Mayhem is just what he does. I just hope he doesn't sign on with Gabriel. Savior help us, how would we fight that?"**

Jillian sat back in her chair. This changed things. He was dangerous. He had gone rogue. It was likely best that he was to be terminated. But she had seen something redeemable in him. She needed to see him again in order to make a final decision. She headed for the hot room.

The surgical team was gone. The angel appeared quiet. She approached. He had been overwhelmed by the procedures and was unconscious. She was moved to help him. She inserted an IV needle into his arm and started a ringer's lactate solution to hydrate him. Then she laid heat packs on his extremities and behind his neck. She put cold packs on his torso. She covered him with several layers of cotton blankets, cocooning him.

Satisfied she had done all she could, she drew a chair from a metal desk behind him and sat to wait for him to resurface. She dozed off after a time. She was awakened by a ragged but striking voice. The archangel was awake and in prayer. He had felt her presence, and believed she was asleep. Now she overheard a son speak to his Father.

"…where are you? Father, hear me. Do not let me be the seed for the end of all things. My life is forfeit if necessary. If I must perish, before I perish, show me… how to help these, your children, grasp the tangled perils of their pursuits. I have strayed far, failed you grievously. I am not worthy, yet I plead with you to allow me this final service to your creation…for mankind…for angel kind." Speaking had been difficult for him. Now he faltered. Pain clouded his mind and drew the curtain. With a ragged exhalation, he fell to unconsciousness again.

Jillian stood. She was moved by his impassioned entreaty. Whatever else he was, the Michael she overheard was worth her effort. She walked to the table and looked at the face of the archangel. Her sense of him, his being, struck at her core. Yes, there was Light within. She thought how extraordinary that here was one who had seen the face of God- one whom God took great care in crafting.

She paused thinking how much she herself missed God. She thought surely God must miss this child of his before her. Then she said aloud to the archangel, "Your Father must have wept when he created you. You will live, if His love guides my hand." She felt a warmth within her chest…no a fire. Her throat tightened with emotion. She reached out her hand to touch the curve of the lips that now fascinated her. She drew back before her hand reached its goal. There was too little time. She turned and hurried to her new mission.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Extremes

In his delirium, Michael reached up to a face that shone with compassion, no passion. He felt the heat of passion well up in himself. He wanted this woman. He dreamed of their lives entwined. "Jillian," he breathed to no one. Presently, he opened his eyes to the gathering of more surgeons and scientists. They were ready to test him, experiment, harvest. Exhausted, diminished to the extreme, he was no longer able to block the pain of their…research.

When he could take no more, when they would not stop when he asked for reprieve, his mind carried him away to Jillian and pleasant adventure. Unconsciousness was all that was left to him. They could not go there, at least. Hazily he looked at the busy explorers of his person. He requested of them, "Do not compound my failures. Destroy what you have taken." They didn't respond save to get ready for their next procedure.

The surgeon looked up from his occupation to Michael. He asked, "Could you stop breathing so erratically, it is interfering with my work." Michael advised him,"I am not inanimate, doctor. Make your way as you can." With a swift exhalation rendered by the intense pain in his mid chest, Michael retreated to his sanctuary as the doctor 'made his way'.

Slowly emerging from unconsciousness brought on by the harvest of…something, Michael had become aware that the researchers were about to place a small rectangular stone-like tablet. This was an appalling thing! These scientists were in possession of the _two_ most feared of weapons in heavens arsenal, him and…the Tablet of Unmaking. It delivered worse than death. You still existed after death. There were still experiences…possibilities, even rebirth. This weapon delivered the most extreme punishment. It removed you from being. Only his Father could command its use without destruction to the one who wielded it. Father had only commanded its use once.

A higher angel who had attempted physical harm to Father in hopes of ingratiating himself to Lucifer had committed this… heaven's most heinous crime… and Father had commanded Michael to execute him with the Tablet of Unmaking, 'The Stone'. It was an innocuous looking 6x8 object that appeared to be smooth stone. It was not. It was a biochemically mechanized weapon of immense power. The offending higher angel was atomized by it in a moment of unspeakable screaming pain after 'The Stone' was placed upon him. How humans possibly obtained this terrible weapon he could not imagine. He instinctively knew its identity and to the man now holding it he managed to warn, "The Stone will take all that you are, do not initiate it!"

The weapon was placed on Michael's bared abdomen despite his warnings of harm to the user. Michael expected to die nearly at once when 'The Stone' was introduced, just as the higher angel had. He strained to move in order to dislodge it, but 'The Stone' phased within him to do its work. It pinned him to the table and took his power to create language but left him free to express the pain it would inflict. Almost immediately, he began to feel the ripping of the fabric of his being in excruciating waves from head to toe as it dismantled him. The scientist who initiated "The Stone" was dead, his soul first then his life force and physical being sucked as a vapor into 'The Stone' - payment for its unauthorized deployment.

Michael realized the extent of the truly exceptional nature of his archangel body as the unmaking process continued interminably. Through his unconstrained gasps and groans, he wished it to be over as mercifully as the offending higher angel's execution, but, no. His body trembled from anguish of being torn to oblivion cell by extraordinary cell. He could scarcely take breath between agony so intense, though he screamed, no sound issued. The strength of his body's resistance caused 'The Stone' to increase power to do its work and it flashed a vaporizing charge drawing him forth from his life.

Plasma flashed in bolts from him. That of his atomized physicality 'The Stone' had wrenched from him rose in wispy, scintillating clouds from the pours of his skin. Michael rakingly drew in breath after breath, panting as his body, locked in mortal combat, sought to hold all it could against "The Stone's" ravaging . He could not rally from this unbearable pain and finally a scream rushed from the depths of his ancient soul that told of his unspeakable anguish.

As if satisfied, at having accomplished that, 'The Stone' released its process. Michael's straining, trembling muscles took opportunity to untie. He had just enough time to take in a few raspy breaths before having to again release the life nourishing air in groans expressing excruciation, as the stripping of existence resumed.

The humans, horrified with the effects, hurried to keep from losing their impressive genetic pool provider and general lab rat. One of the doctors touched Michael as he sought a means to halt 'The Stone' and 'The Stone' seized him. Disengaging from Michael, it resurfaced atop his abdomen from within him. At the same time it began drawing soul and life and physicality from the doctor, replenishing itself and exacting payment for its continued use but set to resume its assault on the stubborn life of the archangel.

Bits of the life power it took seeped through 'The Stone' and channeled into Michael. Michael, feeling the trickle of life infusion as refreshing as a drop of water to one parched, inhaled with his whole body, drinking in the precious force. He exhaled a sound that approximated pleasure. The life essence restored him just enough to give him some little of his language.

Gasping out a ragged unintelligible sound he intended to have been: " Stop! Do not touch me!" Michael attempted to warn away the next doctor who, in his attempt to reach for his colleague now fell onto Michael instead. He, too, was absorbed to 'The Stone's' purpose, as were the two others who followed in quick succession, making the same fatal mistake.

Each man's influx of energy to 'The Stone' and subsequent trickle gave strength to Michael's stifled communication ability, if to nothing else, finally allowing his speech enough clarity for the panicked scientists to comprehend Michael's repeated warning attempts to get them to hold their places. "Stop, keep away!" He managed to say.

Frozen, shaken, the scientists stood not knowing what to do. Michael did, but it took time to register it and tell them through his pain and utter exhaustion. He stumbled over his thoughts and to form the words. Time was of the essence. 'The Stone' would resume its work in earnest any second. Hurriedly grabbing breath between his few words, Michael addressed the stunned people, "You must…not touch…'The Stone'… or me… with….," he began, but couldn't finish. He caught his breath. Too many words he thought. He regrouped and began again, " use... non-conductive…ma…" He could do this, he would do this. He tried again, building on what his strained and rasping voice allowed, " plastic...use… ah…" He groaned in pained exasperation of his incapacity.

One of the doctors caught the intent. He grabbed a pair of plastic tongs and gripping an edge of 'The Stone' lifted it from the depleted, shaking, gasping angel. He returned it to the unusual storage arc in which it had been delivered. Then he replaced the lid which , though the arc itself was unadorned, was embellished in ornate heavenly carvings and language.

The lid was capped with a raised carving of a nude angel lying on his back, draped across the length of the object, wings in a downward drape to cover half way down each side of the upper portion of the arc extending to its center. The angel was depicted with the diminutive rectangular object housed within the arc, upon him, his body straining in anguish. It was an apt representation of the consequence of the vessel's contents.

Michael's body continued to tremble. His breath still drew in as gasping pants as, with the threat controlled, he dissolved to his mind's recesses. There would be no pleasant wanderings. They had found a way to rip even that from him now.

xxxx

Though he was asleep, Michael became aware of movement. He fully wakened. He could tell it was trained military by the efficiency of their progress. He could hear and sense that Alex was with them. He thought to take up his swords at the ready, but recalling his former actions against Alex, could not bear to repeat it. He feigned sleep.

Now, Alex was standing over him, his guarded readiness holding him tense . He raised his sword, shaking with intent, then hesitated to strike. Michael opened his eyes. "Alex," he intoned, flatly. "Michael." The boy returned, lowering his blade of empyrean steel. Michael looked at the corpsmen who created a crescent of offense behind and beside Alex. Michael said to them, "Kill me now if you want to live."

Alex attempted to changed the course of this encounter. Seeing Michael and hearing him, he wanted this more than taking the archangel's life, "I hoped to... talk. The soldier at Alex's right shoulder jabbed him and began to ask, "What are..." His question was stifled by Alex's elbow to his ribs. Alex returned to his serious conversation. I want to ask you to stop the killing, Michael."

Michael stared at him, coldly, expressionless. "I am become what I was made to be, just as you must."

"What, Michael… be the Chosen One? What does that mean, really?!Alex demanded.

Michael's brow furrowed with questioning surprise and he told the boy what he surely knew. "Alex, you are the Savior of mankind. You protect them."

"Where do I start? Michael, teach me how. You were supposed to teach me how!" Alex accused almost shouting.

"I will. I will begin now. Protect them… from me." Michael reached for his blades…more slowly than he was capable, quickly enough to be a threat.

"Michael, stop!" Alex shouted. "You've gone too far! You've gone too far! The words echoed again and again.

Michael did not stop. He began to sit up and before he could rise, Alex plunged his blade into Michael's heart. With a sharp exhalation from the force of entry, Michael fell back. Alex froze knowing Michael would die when he followed through with extracting the blade.

"What have you done?! Alex shouted at Michael. After everything…everything…everything, this is how it ends?!" Alex wailed, horrified at what he had been made to do.

"It was necessary," Michael told him, gasping a breath afterward. "Now finish it." The boy just stood, holding still the sword that mortally impaled the wayward mentor he loved like a second father.

Michael saw he needed more help. "I have always been proud of you, Alex. Now, do what you must for humanity."

Alex quickly withdrew the blade from its living sheath, screaming his remorse and grief as he did so. Michael felt the carving of his flesh…

He awakened to the cause. Surgery. Again. Michael slipped into his altered state, this time to nothingness.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

No More

Jillian sent word to her contact in Helena. "Have Archangel Michael. Will harvest and terminate. Save ASAP." The signal of receipt flashed. She waited for instruction as the night waned. Too soon, it was daybreak. No signal of action was transmitted. She decided she would act independently. Her actual allegiance here and her unusual skills would be exposed, but now a crucial life made that necessary. She went to her rooms and opened a concealed compartment. She withdrew clothing her mother had handed down to her. "These were the attire of your father's sister, a great warrior". She recalled her mother's words.

Her father and his sister were in the military's special forces. Her mother always said he and his sister did not return from a mission and this was all that remained of them. The clothing was not ordinary. There were black markings in an unusual configuration that covered the matte gold tinted fabric. It was very nearly not a fabric. It was more a cohesive fluid. The black and golden marks made a pattern that resembled tweed. The black of it was so deep it was as though it had dimension.

The garment had been created to be a singular armor. So far, nothing could penetrate to evaluate it. She believed the source of its strength resided in the language-like pattern of the gold tone aspects. Probably alien tech the military pirated, she mused. Whatever it was, she liked the extra help it gave her, though she was exceptional without it. Because of her skills, her gifts, she was a valuable ally to powerful people who wished to improve and protect the world, as she did. It was because of this and her intellectual advantages that her mentor had arranged this posting.

Many years ago, Jillian had been away at school in Helena, guided privately by an extraordinary instructor, when her Mother and brother were killed. She had remained in Helena studying… everything… and learning the remarkable martial art her teacher had developed. She was working in research and practical medicine when her teacher convinced Evelyn, leader of Helena that Jillian needed to be sent here. She secured care-takers for her home, a working farm, and joined this project. Now she would risk her secret skills' exposure to secure Michael's life. She felt she would do anything for him.

Her great empathy fostered her drive to protect and nurture anyone who required it. But this was more. He ignited in her stirrings she was normally adept at controlling. No techniques quieted the intense draw she felt to him. She hurried . They would be into more devastating procedures now . She hoped she would reach him in time. She prayed she would. She armed herself with the sword she inherited with the armor and the staff her mentor had gifted her. She headed for the operating theatre. She was stopped in her tracks by what met her there. The whole personnel compliment was present observing the research team. She could not take action against the whole of them. Doctor Simonfeld was addressing the room.

"We have gathered you to witness this demonstration of , what we are calling the angel's Autonomic Resuscitation Capacity, that you may know what to expect in the transplant recipient who is awaiting completion of our extraction. We've already opened. You may observe the reaction on the overheads. Michael had groggily resurfaced from the ordeal of the new incision as the doctor had begun his introduction. Hearing this newest undertaking, he had to act quickly. There was no more time.

"For the love of all that is holy … **stop** ," he requested, his voice steady and firm. He had imbued one word, _stop_ , with his most imperative subliminal command. It's having been spoken, the word struck the mind with weight of force. The completeness of his mental intention was felt by everyone who heard. Only an archangel could have rallied the effort that type of mental assertion took and then only once in 48 hours …when completely fit. He was not. That he accomplished it was remarkable. He had reserved the gift to impart when circumstances would allow it to serve best in affecting the termination of this project. Now, these children of his Father's insatiable appetite to know and to make perceived strides to advance themselves, forced a decision. He made it.

The human doctor heard something different in the voice of the angel on his operating table. He didn't know why, but he was moved to obey this time. Dr. Simonfeld instructed his surgical team to step away from their procedure. "Close", he ordered his nurse. The nurse quickly closed the long incision along his abdomen and over his heart with a few staples before stepping away. No one questioned this change of course, having also been affected by the imperative.

Dr. Simonfeld felt he had steeled himself against the words of this extraordinary research subject, but had to acknowledge he was quite affected by the angel now. Having done as requested, the imperative had lifted. Believing he had recovered himself, the arrogant, single-minded man altered his task. Everyone accepted the redirection as normal. Now the doctor asked of Michael, "Will you tell us what these angelic organs are, how they work? How you derive your strength, your longevity?" He questioned for the hundredth time. Their former research had revealed some things, but this angel possessed something more and he wanted to know what it was. He wanted to know everything no matter the cost.

"You already know as much as you need." Michael said softly. He was in great difficulty but maintained his control. His remarkable body could repair most damage, regenerate given time…even whole organs…a fact he was relieved they did not know. But after so many procedures and destructive testing with no recovery time and the molecular devastation caused by exposure to "The Stone", he was damaged in ways the humans who plundered his body incessantly didn't realize and he would not tell. They were not ready for most of his Father's secrets.

The organ they wanted to take from him this time would never serve them. It was a gift only to Father's archangels and it could not function without his life force to drive it. Separated from him, as the humans had been about to do, its great energy would fire randomly and cause much destruction. The recollection of their newest actions and what he had been backed into doing elicited a rare profanity, "Damn it," he whispered barely aloud as he thought to himself how they interminably dabbled without knowing what they would reap or sow. They were so infuriatingly difficult, these humans.

Michael was trying to save them from themselves on so many levels, even as all he was continued being destroyed by them. He had surrendered his only chance to stop the genetic program, the only chance for his escape- to their salvation. Everyone present would have died within moments if he hadn't acted.

His thoughts returned to the doctor hovering over him demanding information. Michael decided he would tell what they, on some level, already knew of angel kind and give them a little something new…so they felt accomplished. They always needed that.

Perhaps now he could impress on them to cease this project . Maybe they would listen… now. Michael said wearily to the man who reminded him so annoyingly of David Whele, "I will explain what I can." The Doctor pointed insistently to a projected holographic image. "These, what are they? All of you have them but we have never seen them function, "the doctor plied.

Michael glanced at the grouping of splendid biological mechanisms and began with the first the doctor indicated. "That is the Glimmerate. It detects Glory," he managed to say. Michael couldn't seem to get enough air to satisfy. He began to shiver lightly and his breath caught when the pain he had mentally been holding at bay broke through. He winced almost imperceptibly before taking command again.

"What does that mean," queried Dr. Simonfeld.

"It senses Grace, Power, Purity, Love, and Mercy. It generates bioluminescence which causes us to Halo in the presence of the 'Extraordinary' possessed of all of these." Michael needed a moment to catch his breath and took it.

Annoyed, and beginning to be concerned the angel would not stay conscious long enough to address it, the doctor skipped to the organ no other angel before this one had. Indicating this angelic wonder in question, Dr. Simonfeld pressed, "And this one?" He pointed to the projection of the unique and beautiful organ they were about to take for transplant, but that now, for reasons beyond him, he decided should remain intact.

"It is the Illuminavitae." Michael said before he flinched. His body was failing. There was no doubt of that now. His thoughts rambled, wandered. Perhaps such as he was no longer required. A being of fury and destruction was what he was created to be and despite his great discipline and the mercy he learned, that would surface in him as an unfettered rage. But he was always determined to be more. He always sought to improve and expand his mind and spirit - to garner command of his fierce nature.

He felt he had been a devoted son, if not an ideal one. Knowing Michael was capable of far more than his nature implied, his Father had given him many trials by which to learn. Most he accomplished, but there were failures. Michael lived in the shadow of his greatest failure now.

Angel kind was not privileged to forgiveness without the trials of redemptive acts equal to or exceeding the transgression. Michael knew if he perished now, he would be cast into the Pit with Lucifer without possibility of redemption as a result of his misinterpretation of his Father's intentions in ordering 'The Flood'. He thought damnation a just judgment especially considering the recent compounding of his transgression.

While he hazily regarded his surroundings through the filter of his muddled mind, he managed to considered the present. Without him, their genetics program's potential for complete disaster would end…provided someone destroyed what had been taken from him. Yes, his death was right, necessary for the sake of humans and angels. He forced himself to focus. Good, he had halted them with his imperative to stop them from imminent self- destruction. Now he could use the time for them to learn something of themselves from all of …this … and for him… to prepare to die.

To that purpose, he closed his eyes and with all of the effort he could apply to the task, mentally fired a thought to his sister, Uriel. He sent one message. "Destroy this place." It was all he could manage but it was adequate. At least when he died, creation would be safe. Uriel would follow his mental signature to this place. She would act on his last request and Father's dearest children… and his angels would be safe. The summoning had been so difficult he was relieved when he felt the evidence that his effort had been successful. The air about him quavered with the resonance of his mind's assertion.

Doctor Simonfeld believed, correctly, that Michael was not being attentive and was about to chastise him. The doctor then felt the vibration of the air as Michael's notice to Uriel carved, in the somewhat similar but exceedingly more powerful way of a short wave radio transmission, toward her. "What was that!" he exclaimed as he looked around himself for a source. Focusing on the angel he demanded, "What did you just do?" Michael simplified for the doctor, "Made a phone call."

"How? How did you? With what?" The doctor insisted. "Did you send for someone to save you?"

"No," Michael replied.

"Then for what?" the doctor pried.

"To save you," Michael said.

"Right, as if I'd believe that. What did you send…are we going to be attacked? "When it was clear the angel was not going to elaborate, the pursed-lipped doctor returned to getting the information the angel had been willing to share. "Fine, then what is this 'Illuminate' you spoke of? He mispronounced.

Michael continued. " The Illuminavitae houses the spark of life. It resuscitates the cardio vascular system and the respiratory system in a body…." He took a sharp breath before going on…" brought prematurely into death. If the body is still a safe vessel for the soul, the spark …of life is reintroduced. "

A bit of his mentally restrained and constant agony broke to surface causing Michael to express it with a long pained exhalation, "Ahhhh." That was followed by a deep steady inhaled, "sssss" which he held for a moment before exhaling and with his jaw slightly clenched he managed to add, "It only benefits the angel into whose body it is completely integrated. "

Michael paused with his eyes closed, focusing on his breathing. Dr. Simonfeld pointed at the next mystery to glean more. Michael opened his eyes after a few breaths and seeing the indicating doctor, heeded the prompt.

"The Transdimiter locally folds space/ time and creates the sleeve in which our wings are sheathed". He moved quickly to the next. "The "Diminsor" folds… on a larger scale. It is the means by which we reach our Celestial home. For all of these, their power is the angelic soul and only by this do they function."

'Holy crap!' The doctor exclaimed in his mind, barely keeping it a thought. Folding space/time! He could barely contain himself. Angelic souls as a power source? He was plotting how to plunder that.

Michael, having restored the dam to the welling pain and the apparent fading of his energies, didn't pause. In his customary strong voice…a voice that had been largely absent in recent hours…he continued.

"We have many other gifts. Gifts of which you are aware, just as you were aware of these. Was hearing me give voice to them so important as to be worth the carnage you call research?" Michael asked his tormentor, certain the man was absorbed in the mention of space/time folding.

"Yes. To know is the only reason to be" the surgeon responded confidently even as he remained distracted.

"Knowledge for the sake of knowledge is your defense?" Michael said incredulously.

"Yes", the doctor shot back.

This kind of teaching was not usually Michael's duty, certainly not his forte. And now, more than anything, he just wanted to rest, but he would try none the less. "When your need to know causes great harm, such gained information is not knowledge. It is abomination. Seek another route to knowledge that does not destroy Father's creation. See to your soul, Doctor. It is in grave danger. " Then Michael turned his waning focus to all of those present.

Projecting his voice so they could hear, the archangel hoped to reach these he had loved...still loved. ..to try to warn again, to grow them spiritually. "Look, here." Michael indicated with a glance to himself. "Behold the fruit of your labor." Dehydrated, scarred, bleeding, the dying archangel was never-the- less commanding and resplendent. Everyone looked at him now. Captured by his angelic glory spilling forth, they opened their minds and beyond their task here, saw what they had done to this extraordinary individual.

Michael added, "Before you is a being possessed of billions of years of knowledge and experience beyond your comprehension and this is how you thought that could best serve. Is it truly knowledge you seek or is it power you wish to usurp? You are … he started with an accusing tone about to express his anger, his frustration at it all having come to this.

They had taken everything from him. No. He reconsidered. He had given it. He would always give them everything. He was their protector, now their teacher. He continued, speaking from his great heart, lovingly to caution them. "You are remarkable, beautiful children seeking to match your Father's greatness. But children of my Father, don't exceed your reach. You will cause more grief than you know. Give yourselves time. None of us is our Father."

"What do you imagine we should do, angel?" Came a call from the ranks of scientists.

"Remember", Michael began. The mental dam began to crumble just then. Michael was racked with pain. He concealed it the best he could and paused to let it ebb. It did not. A deep, quiet moan slipped his lips, his muscles straining and trembling now from the stress of terminal pain. And he was so cold…

The entreaty to remember settled upon these his Father loved so. Michael would not bear them ill will for what they felt they must do to survive. Despite that he was an enigma to them he did hope they would remember his service to humanity. Remember him. But that was not his message.

When he could, he continued, his strong voice gaining a hesitating , raspy roughness as he powered through death's grasp: "Remember… what you lose today…learn. " He did not refer only to himself as what was being lost. "By this …you lose the innocence which fostered your ignorance… and arrogance… in believing you had the right to take… without consequence, to create… without… understanding…" Having begun, now he wanted to teach them more, but he was being drawn elsewhere.

Gasping gently, Michael spoke to another now. He didn't feel the pain any longer. His trembling stopped. He looked beyond the physical world. His captivating voice held and carried the weight of his singular angelic power administered with the gentleness of a child's caress. He spoke hesitatingly, from shortness of breath, but kept his clarity and reverence, "Father, I am General of Your Armies… Defender of your Holies … the Sword of Heaven, Hand of Your Wrath… Guardian… of… Mankind … no more." The last of his breath slipped softly from him.

The stunned people collectively gasped audibly. Whispers spread " He is the Archangel!" "The angel is Michael!" Though he had become a difficulty, most realized Michael was still their best hope against angel kind until the Savior came. For what he had done for them, for what he might yet do for them, they did not wish him gone. Hands cupped to mouths in shocked realization as the great gravity of their actions settled upon them.

The frightful stillness of life departed embraced Michael. His lips remained slightly parted from the gentle passing of his last breath. His stunningly blue eyes fixed in an eternal sightless seeking. In the silence born of shock and shame, his essence lifted from him. Such a force was this archangel that he was visible in this way. He appeared as an aurora borealis that encircled a central pulsating radiance. The room was filled by it.

There was sparking and a crackling sound made by the still warm plasma flashing in running bolts through the cool of the operating theatre. The air was thickened by the density of his life energy. Michael's still body began to halo in the presence of his own glory. In halo, his physical remains looked as alabaster lighted by the trapped rays of an inner sun.

A great emptiness was left lingering among the tear streaked bystanders. In seeking a weapon for their salvation, they had destroyed their greatest hope against the angelic threat. He lay there now, where they put him – splendid - lifeless. What had they done?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Renewal

Jillian was frozen in shock, tears flowing, "No," she breathed. She was too late. Her bid for help had gone unanswered. Even if help came now, it was too late and so it was that Gabriel crashed through the back wall in the laboratory's operating room, followed by Uriel and a band of 12 High Guard angels.

They were, all of them, too late. Gabriel's eyes landed upon his brother's body. His pain at the loss of his dear and formidable twin shown on his face and melted to horror at what these… primitives… had done to his person.

That was followed quickly by his mortal fury. He wheeled from this sight of woe onto the hapless scientists. Drawing his sword, Gabriel slaughtered them… all... before his High Guard could stir. Then he commanded the High Guard to kill any who remained in the complex. They quickly dispatched the remainder of the scientists and their transplant volunteers , some in an ancillary operating room, others in their living quarters and returned to the main lab to attend their commander.

Gabriel stood among the slain, trembling with unslakable grief, surrounded by the aurora of his twin's still lingering essence. He held his arms up reaching to the wafting plasma, then with a wail of otherworldly grief, fell to his knees and wept. The cost of this war for dominion of earth was great, this…this was…scathingly, incomprehensibly, unbearable.

Uriel, possessed of healing skills she had kept secret for countless ages, had begun to minister to her brother's ravaged body. She had saved him from empyrean steel poisoning after Furiad's last attack without being found out. But now, her skills would be witnessed. She would do what was necessary and conceal what she could.

She leaned over Michael and said, "Take my breath, brother". She exhaled into him. His chest rose with the filling of his lungs and fell still for a moment before rising again in a mechanical way. Assured that her breath would sustain the body's oxygenation as she worked, Uriel proceeded in hopes of undoing the death before her.

The oil extracted by heat from several of her own wing quills was regenerative. Now she guarded this gift of hers by having had the extract in an unmarked vial which she kept concealed in her wing sheath. She held it now and moved with great speed and surety. Several drops into Michael's mouth and then into every incision he had endured, every wound. They could instantly be seen to heal.

She turned Michael's body to access every invasion of him and bring it her healing. Now on his stomach, Uriel found on his back bared strips of muscle tissue telling where skin grafts had been harvested. She treated them with haste. Then she found the neuro inhibiters located at the base of his skull. She removed all of them and put a drop of the remarkable serum in their place.

She didn't have time to react in full to her brothers condition , but a tear drop splashed onto Michael's shoulder, wrenched from her grief at the suffering she knew Michael had endured. Finished treating all she could find, she returned him to the flat of his back once more. With her hand over Michael's now healed chest, she mentally commanded her own Illuminavitae to generate a charge. The energy flowed through her hand into her lifeless brother and lightly shocked his heart into rhythmic pulse.

Sensing the flow of air to lungs, the circulation of blood, the renewed soundness of internal organs, Michael's own Illuminavitae generated a life giving arc to his body. The muscles of his body flexed strongly with the force and closed his open eyes. With a deep, swift inhalation, his own breath took over the breath imbued by Uriel as a patch.

Sensing safe haven once again, his not yet dissipated essence returned to its revitalized vessel. It settled gently into him. With contact made between the intense archangel essence and its equally extraordinary life force, a great plasma discharge ignited to coalesce the body's life force with its essence. As the plasma life storm quieted, Michael stirred.

Pleased, Uriel, leaning over Michael with her hands on his chest, dropped her head in a brief prayerful gratitude for her Father's gifts and rose from her ministrations. She left the room and set fire to the institution in a closet far enough away to give time to Michael's awakening before the conflagration consumed everything here, as he had requested.

Then she returned to the lab operating theatre, walked over and embraced the grieving Gabriel. She whispered to him, "Our brother lives." Gabriel looked up at her wearing an expression of horrified grief brushed with a hopeful disbelief. Then he saw his twin stir and took heart. "We need to go," Uriel said gently but firmly. No one knew how Michael would react to the presence of his siblings and a flight of High Guard. They removed themselves to avoid provocation.

Jillian had not gone unmolested by Gabriel's rampage. Her unique armor had protected her - even from the archangel's blade. She had witnessed everything. The archangel's sister had worked a miracle. Jillian thought the stunning sibling archangel looked familiar. It was the way she moved. Jillian had not been in a position to see her face.

All she knew now was that Michael lived. She had felt his loss as a physical blast crumbling her world to a pulverized ruin . But he lived and her world was still whole. She could think of nothing…not the scattered dead about her, not the growing fire behind her…nothing but to rush to his side, feeling drawn to him in every way.

There was something different about him. She sensed it immediately. His Light was more intense in her mind's eye. Her hurry to him stalled. She stood several feet from him, halted by the sudden thought that he may not share her sense of closeness to him. At a cautious distance then, she stood, watching, waiting, breathless to see again all of the wondrous signs of life give evidence that he truly lived.

Michael stirred again and blinked to focus his sight, but couldn't quite break the tunnel vision. A soft groan issued and finished as a light, throaty sigh. He gradually resurfaced. He never questioned his Father's devices. He was alive. He knew he had died. He would not ask how this came to be. He was aware of a lightness of being. He was pleased by the sensation and smiled lightly, feeling the admiring sense of awe for his Father's workings that accompanied all such moments past. No he would not question this.

Then he heard a whisper in his mind. His Father may not be here, but heralds still fulfilled their purpose on rare occasion. Today was rare. The heralds whisper having drawn undivided attention to them, they then sang to him. They sang a song of his Redemption! It was sound of indescribable nature. It strummed the chords of creation and rang throughout infinity a composition borne forth from the depths of their Father's love. Every angel heard it and wept. Wherever they were they stopped, presented their wings in a regal, graceful salute and bowed their heads in respect.

Michael was a renewed soul! He had prayed and struggled, endured ridicule and shame, despaired of the possibility, hoped for millennia for this moment. He drew himself from the table where his suffering and sacrifice in the spirit of love, mercy, service and forgiveness, had earned this grace. Michael sank to his knees. Straight and tall, arms at his side, he presented his wings in a flowing sweep and bowed his head. His tears of joy flowed and fell upon the earth and to whatever agent of his Father who would hear he said, "I am grateful."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Darkness Rising

Michael's joy only compounded when he looked up and saw before him a face that he had longed for in his confinement ordeal. Her tears did not veil the joy or the passion he hoped to see. Jillian had heard the whispered news of Michael's redemption. She had not heard the song of angels. But she was so deeply moved by the humility and jubilation she felt avalanching from him, she too had fallen to her knees.

Recovering, she had risen and now offered her hand to him in friendship, as a healer, as a mere prop of support…however he would have her. Michael did not need aid but reached for her hand never the less. He rose with a singular purpose. Her lips. He drew her to him. Smoke and flames from the fire Uriel set began billowing and licking the air around them. His eyes held her and told of his intention. She did not wait.

She put her arms around his neck and with her open palm cupping behind his head drew his lips to hers. They kissed passionately, hungrily, deeply. The heat between them rivalled the firestorm surrounding them. Jillian felt herself flash a wave of desire. Michael, mid -kiss , was struck as though physically by the force of it. It backed him away, and he gasped lightly as it impacted. It hadn't hurt him, but it did bring to focus that he sensed a good deal of pain, as though his entire body had a toothache. It would take time for him to fully recover from his redemptive suffering.

Then the wash of the sensation Jillian had sent settled, becoming a consuming pleasure. He smiled and exhaled a light sigh in wonder. The physical fire about them forced evasive action now. He wrapped her in his embrace and flew skyward through the tunnel Gabriel had made.

xxxx

Michael lofted to a strong thermal air current which he caught with his wings at just the right angle to hold him stationary. He situated himself to the vertical and bade Jillian to stand on his bare feet as a platform. He wasted no time. "I invite you to partake of me if it is your choice," he said hopefully. "It is," she replied. They quickly worked to slip Jillian into the same state of undress Michael already enjoyed.

" Where should I store these," she said of her clothing and her blade and staff. Michael took them from her. He recognized the armor…and the blade, "Where did you get these?" he asked. "They were handed down from my family," Jillian explained. "Do you know your heritage?" Michael queried. My mother's family was Italian, though they settled there after leaving Troy, my Mother always said. My Dad's predecessors were Vikings…Norsemen who settled very early on in France," she recounted. "Hmm, I will tell you of your distant Parisian relative, Joan, another time," Michael smiled. She looked at him in disbelief and asked, "You mean as in "of Arc", Joan?" Nodding, he put the articles over his shoulder and they disappeared into his wing sheath. It was Jillian's turn to smile and sigh an exhalation of wonder.

Then she looked about them. The sundrenched cloud tops were silvery bright white. She thought the sky would match Michael's blue eyes, but it didn't. His blue was deeper, yet crystalline. She looked down at the earth then to Michael and said, " So , here between heaven and earth is to be our paradise?"

Michael beamed. He liked the way she saw things. "Paradise has always been what we make of it," he said. He wanted her… now. Looking at her, his smile turned to smolder. She felt his body responding to his desire for her. She wanted him… now.

Just as she was about to be distracted by what to do next, with a great surge of his wings they rose higher until he was embedded securely in a thermal drift. Then returning to the vertical, Michael embraced her with his wings . She _had_ been distracted… by flight… but he was intently focused.

He touched his finger tips to her downward tipped chin and drawing her gently to his lips, covered her with his mouth in a forceful, tender kiss as he caressed her face, her hair, her neck and pulled her to him tightly, quickly, insistently capturing her into his arms' embrace. She trembled with delightful anticipation and felt an aching emptiness where ever Michael was not. She broke from his kisses and tried to speak of it, but Michael was ready for her need.

He covered her once more with his firm, full lips. He parted her lips with his tongue searching for hers. They stroked and parried resuming their deep kiss as he entered her. They both gasped with pleasure, the cool air exciting their mouths as it breezed, swirling there and raced on, leaving them free to press so closely, so deeply once again.

All Jillian could feel, see, scent was Michael. Her every sense was consumed with him, by him. He was over her, around her, within her. Set here in the sky, he was her whole world. She opened all of her to him, reaching from the depths of herself. She felt things she had never known rushing in on her. She felt a sense of beauties she had never seen. She was awash in glorious ecstasy. She allowed the experience to expand to him. They celebrated their joy briefly smiling through a tender kiss that quickly became filled again with their intensity.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, she was embroiled in a roiling violent darkness, consuming passionate fury, destructive driving rage, calculating savagery. It was overwhelming. She felt dizzy, disoriented. Michael felt her experience this sense of loss of self and become anxious. He reasoned her empathic sensitivity may be taking her too deeply into…him. He became terribly worried.

He forced himself to detach from his own core of passions to allow her to feel safe and whole. She pulled away from him gasping air to help herself offset panic. "That is what you must control every second of your life?!" She exclaimed, almost shrieking as she was shocked and horrified.

Her reaction hurt him as if she had struck at his heart. "I'm sorry," Michael said, gently separating from her. He was painfully aware of what she must have seen. She recovered herself. " No, no it is not your fault, Michael." She comforted him. She couldn't as yet be completely supportive. She struggled inwardly to manage.

Michael was ashamed. He believed she could not possibly wish to be with him now, having been faced with the ugliness within him. He thought surely she was repulsed…he was. "I will take us down." He said. To his surprise, Jillian shook her head and touching her hands to his breast, she insisted, "Michael, the fault is mine. I wanted too much . All of you. And it was… I was not ready for… you."

"How could you be, how could anyone be," he said concern lacing his shame. Recovered now and having processed all of the information she gleaned, Jillian sought to ease Michael's distress. "Do you think me incapable of compassion deep enough to know how you struggle with this I saw? Do you not know that is the well of your strength? I saw, also, what is at the center of your darkness. You are more than you realize. I am honored to know you…in every way." She needed him to understand he was not …unwanted. Jillian held his concerned face gently in her hands. "Just let me be amazed for a moment at the tenderness that lives by the side of such power."

"You do not want to go from me?" He asked incredulously. Jillian responded, "We all have our dark places. Yours, like you is just…more." Now he was amazed. She had glimpsed the absolute worst of him and found something else. Thinking what else could help her while she coped, Michael spun to the horizontal placing her on top of him. She was secure there and had full access to him in her own time. She beamed her approval. They quite enjoyed the way the other thought. Michael was very impressed by her abilities, impressed by her capacity to understand. He thought he couldn't have cared for her more. He was wrong. They soared for a while, talking about little things.


	10. Chapter 10

*Elaborate lovemaking alert

Chapter 10

The Rewarded

Jillian noticed there was no sense of falling. She peeked through Michael's black feathers, their iridescent beauty not escaping her admiration. " It's alright," he assured her." We'll ride this air current as if floating on an aerial ocean. I won't let you fall." She looked to him now, "Oh, it's far too late to prevent that."

His act of generosity at her trepidation was the cementing sign of Michael's depth of caring. She would allow her unique senses to fully encompass her, to fully engross her in the heat of her own passions …and all of his. The smolder returned between them. They dissolved into a kiss. Michael hardened as desire ignited him once more. Jillian smiled through their kiss when she felt his renewed interest.

She moved over Michael's hips. She reached for his fullness and raising herself over him then lowered to take him slowly within her. She took him to her half way, then rose slowly exposing him again. He gasped for want of her. She began to take him again, slowly rocking him, swaying then she quickly pressed herself to him rose lightly and pressed to him again. Michael shuddered drawing in a breath steeling himself from his urge to release completely. Jillian felt his readiness and, she, gasping from the pleasure of his entry to her, fell still to recover and help him settle. Their pause was brief.

Michael and Jillian gently rolled their hips and pressed ever harder to deepen their pleasure in one another. Then Jillian lay over his body to take him in a kiss that began gently, but graduated to passionate frenzy as she allowed herself to flow once more spiritually and physically experiencing all of him. She could not stop the flash of the passion she drew to her from encompassing Michael as well.

Fired by that intensity, Michael hurriedly ran his hands down her back and cupped each buttock in a palm, drawing her to him hungrily. He could not sate his need to be ever more deeply part of her. His breath was rapid and hot upon her. He was about to increase his rate of thrust, when Jillian rose from their kisses and sat upright. She let the coolness wash over her and waited for him to slow his breathing, quiet his urgency. He studied her.

She was lovely. Flushed by passion her fair smooth skin glowed in the streaks of sunlight that knifed through the higher clouds. Her golden brown eyes flashed. When the sun struck them just right, he could see a hint of jade in them. The wind lifted her long, chocolate, hair caught it up, whipped it over one shoulder and dropped it cascading. The tips of hair brushed the top of her breasts where they rose from her chest into voluptuous orbs. He reached for them, caressing, pressing, lightly kneading their fullness then teasing her nipples between his fingers.

She placed her hands over his, holding them to her and rocked back taking him with her. He arched his back and rose to her. The pleasure caused him to extend his head back exhaling his passion. The sight of his flexed abdomen, his chest and the curve of his neck, all revealing his muscles tensed with the flush of ecstasy excited her. She guided his strong hands to rest either side of her hips and released them. She laid her hands palm down in front of her where her body met his and pressing gently there, then pushed them forward up his body, relishing the strength and beauty of his form.

She parted her hands at his throat and traced them up either side of his face, threading her fingers in his hair. There she paused watching him enjoy the feel of her touch until she longed for his mouth again and took her pleasure there. She remembered he was within her and sat upright again. "Lie still," she said smiling seductively and dusting her fingertips to his cheek. Michael smiled back. He welcomed her wish to manipulate him. She began a figure eight motion with her hips. She rose and fell to him, then pressed and rocked rhythmically. She proceeded with this, passion's dance, moving with graceful strength.

Jillian then reached behind her to find Michael's firmness and kneaded him. She felt his strong response then held him still while she traced her way up to his chest pausing there. She kissed his nipple then gave it a little snip with her teeth and let her tongue play there circling and teasing. She drew her tongue across his chest letting it swirl and play between kisses before arriving to treat the other nipple with the same care she had its mate.

Drawing her hands up, she rested them on his strong chest. She lifted herself from him, still keeping him lightly within. She held her place as she allowed the wind to whip its caressing coolness over his exposure. When she knew he felt the sensation of the crisp rushing air encircling him, she slowly deprived him of it, enveloping him within her warmth again. She could experience his positive response to her titillation.

She would like to have played longer at exploring his pleasure , but the air around them quavered, vibrating with Michael's need to fulfill his desire. She could not hear, but felt the sound as it reverberated across the surface of her skin. The effect was thrilling to her. She would not make him wait. She would not make him ask. She could not wait. She invited him to pursue his desire.

He drew himself up to her and kissed her urgently, wrapping his hand in her hair to hold her to his kisses' sway. She quickened the pace of her rising and falling to him. He matched her, grasping and pulling her to him quicker, harder. She gave him all he desired and in the process felt her own need become insistent. He gave her all she craved of him.

Waves of pleasure rising and ebbing and rising again as they rocked and pressed together until all consuming ecstasy gripped them and, simultaneously their pleasure exploded to their ultimate reward. She fell to his waiting arms whereupon he showered her with kisses.

They lay, she as a warm drape of comfort over him, he as the firmament in the sky. They remained adrift in the clouds recovering their breath, minds reeling from their discovery of each other. They held one another tenderly in a sweet reprieve.

She desired him again and whispered that to him. He smiled and raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. "Yes, " he said to her request, marveling that she wished for him again so soon. Without having withdrawn from her he hardened once again. Then he turned in the air to position himself over her. She wrapped her legs about his waist. He cradled her in his arms. After executing the turn, he drew in his wings and tightened them about her as a secure and soft bedding, then realized better of proceeding. In his distraction, he had ventured out of the thermal.

"I must give us a course adjustment." he told her. He spread his great wings took them back into the thermal air current where they would circle, gently rising. Then he settled at the vertical. He looked at her lovingly, kissed her repeatedly and whispered softly in her ear his intention to pamper her, "Allow me?"

She was thrilled at the prospect, and though she couldn't subdue her smile she managed to produce a bit of pursed lip at being deprived of her playground. He laughed knowing well what she was thinking and kissed her mock pout. "I think you'll be pleased," he assured her. "Well, just so long as I can admire the landscape," she said, not at all meaning the landscape of earth racing by beneath them. "You may look all you like. I believe I am quite yours," he admitted at once to her and to himself. The honesty of it caught him by surprise and caused him to fall to an unexpected seriousness in his regard of her. Deciding he was glad of the fact, he smiled and with one graceful sweep, he once more encapsulated her in a feathery cocoon beneath him. They soared peacefully on the airstream sharing their kisses once more.

Ever so slowly he began stroking in and out of her enjoying her soft expressions of pleasure. Gradually, he began adding a circle with his hips lightly withdrawing and pressing deeper with each rotation. He dusted her lips, her body in feathery kisses and nipped her strategically with his teeth. He let his tongue draw swirls down her neck and across from one breast to the other flicking his tongue across her nipples at an impressive speed with the perfect pressure to heighten sensitivity. Then he took up her left nipple suckling her gently at first then deeply, creating waves of pleasure that washed over her. In a gentle finishing, he circled her with his tongue then pressed a deep kiss then released her. On release he drew in a deep breath causing a rush of cool air to arouse the nipple further before pressing a light kiss and moving on. His tongue leading the way in a tantalizing meander, he kissed his way to her right nipple, treating it to equal pleasurable attention.

He traced her with his mouth down as far he could reach without depriving her of his primary endeavor. He could feel her responses and reveled in them with her. He lay over her to reach for the lips he cherished and kissed with such depth and tenderness Jillian could not form thought. He made of her a creature of sensations. While he held her in his kisses trance, he changed speed, direction and intensity of his penetration learning her favorite combinations and providing them in quick succession, driving her mad with pleasure. Then he began aerial techniques. He added altitude, speed and directional variations in flight to affect the senses. To Jillian's delight Michael's dynamic aerobatics increased their pleasure until neither could bear more waiting and together they were inundated by aTsunami of blissful release.

Breathless, spent from exertion, Michael had to land now. He was still compromised by his ordeal at the lab and required rest more readily than normal. Jillian felt him trembling and felt remorse at taking so much from their aerial indulgence. They landed in a high meadow and settled upon the warm ground entwined in each other. The wildflower profusion was dressed in butterflies. The air was sweet with their blend of fragrance.

Jillian appreciated the feathery wing separating her from the grass. She was quite exhausted, but so delighted in her companion that she couldn't rest. She caressed his forehead and ran her fingers along his strong, graceful neck, pausing to touch the hollow of his throat. She continued over his chest, down his abdomen along the ridge of his hip and down his thigh, recalling the pleasure of him as he recovered from their lovemaking. They were both radiant in their afterglow.

Michael watched her appreciating him. He worried she was not sated and wished he could take her to him once more. She heard him. She looked up from her study of him to find his gaze. "I am quite satisfied, you needn't worry. But I will hold you to promise of more epic pleasure when you're better healed. One cannot have too much of a good thing," she said suggestively.

"You're positively scandalous, my dear," he said. He had no intention of evoking anyone. However, his phrasing harkened the iconic character from Gone With the Wind, Rhett Butler. Jillian thought it a worthy approximation. "I had no idea you enjoyed classic cinema, Michael!" she said. " I enjoy a great many things, but none more than you," he flattered his lover honestly. In her best Scarlett O'Hara, Jillian responded, "I declare, how you do go on! I'm afraid I shall faint." They both chuckled at the silliness. That last part wasn't far from truth. She very nearly had fainted…more than once… from …overwhelming passion. 'How glorious!' She thought to herself.

Her happy bubble of recollection was burst when he scooped her onto him. He let her remain nestled there for a few moments while he looked at her and played with her hair, felt her breath on him. Then he spun so that now all of him covered her. They lay in the shade of his wings. She loved the feel of his body against hers, the weight of him, the way their curves and rises and dips fit one another.

He leaned forward to kiss her and as she opened her mouth to receive him an insect set its course there. She sputtered," Pbftt, puh!" and rolled Michael from her unceremoniously, batting at her tongue. Soundly tossed, Michael lay on his back, knees drawn up, arms and wings wide and laughed, fully and loudly, joyfully until his sides ached. He was amazed at how absurdly happy he was. He laughed at the strong, beautiful, passionate, brilliant creature beside him reduced to …this…

She sat in an unflattering crouch picking the buggy bits from her tongue. It brought to mind a frog's pursuit and Michael's warm, deep, musical laughter caused her to join in laughing now. Having picked up on his thought and realizing her amphibian resembling circumstance she followed through with the image's inspiration by leaping…not clumsily, but strongly and quite gracefully despite the intended imitation… to pounce the archangel in mock attack for being amused at her humiliating bug invasion.

From her new perch atop him she pressed her lips on his in a non-kiss, capturing his smile mid- laugh. The two of them snickered until Michael finally focused on an issue they needed to address and speaking as best he could with his still captured lips said, "I must return to the lab. It is crucial I secure some…things. "

Now Jillian spoke through the lip-press, " When you are ready we can go there." They parted from their playfulness and stood. "No, I'll go alone. Will you wait here?" Michael both asked and told her. He did not wait for her response, as what he went to do needed to be done without witness.

Michael set down in the crater of smoldering ruin that was the lab. The arc containing "The Stone" would not have been affected by the fire. He rifled through the ashes until he was certain. He was certain all of his genetics were destroyed. He was certain someone had taken "The Stone".

His face, smudged with soot, was set in an expression that told of his annoyed frustration. He stood considering the implications. He lightly pursed his lips and drew in his cheeks in concentration. Then, using his wings to aid in sound collection, he listened intently for anything that might give evidence the culprit was near. There was nothing.

There was no visible evidence of anyone having left the area on foot. The arc containing 'The Stone' was gone without a trace. That meant someone winged had possession of it. Standing a moment more amidst the blackened, puffing ash with concerned resignation that he would leave without tying up all of the loose ends here, he then burst into flight…back to the meadow and Jillian.

Jillian sensed his pensive and worried state. "What's wrong, Michael? What did you find…or didn't you find?" Yes, she was sure it was that he didn't find something. "It doesn't matter…for now," he reported tersely, not indicating to what he referred. She let it rest, sensing that he needed that.

"We should find a place for the night," he said distractedly surveilling the surroundings. Jillian reached up to his cheek and brushed her hand across it lightly. It drew his attention from his troublesome thoughts to feel her touch. He looked to her now and smiled. "Which way shall we go?" He offered her the option, happy to go anywhere she indicated…as long as it was away from here. "I have a place in mind," she said.

Jillian directed him to her farm outside of Helena. They landed briefly once at an unoccupied house to pilfer clothing for Michael. He was not pleased with what they found. "I prefer to remain as I am," he announced. "You're naked. And so…no," she said firmly.

"But," he started. She interrupted raising her index finger to air to hush him, "We will shortly be among the civilized,'" she reminded him.

He opened his mouth to give objection and it was then she smushed the workable, but ragged light colored blue jeans and baby blue tee to his chest and ordered him, "Dress." He looked at the rags as if they were vermin, but dressed as ordered. There were no shoes so he remained barefooted. She wished they had found shoes, because…damn… even his bare feet were distractingly provocative.

Shaking her head at the absurdity of the foot discovery, she looked up to his face. She'd thought his eyes could not have been bluer but the light blue tee and the bright light of the sun made the shocking blue… more . A gentle breeze mussed his hair. Seeing him standing there in the thread bare, slightly strained tee and form fitting jeans , she wanted him… again.

She held her reserve, but turned from him gaping and mouthing a silent, 'Oh, my dear Lord' and cupped her hand to her mouth to conceal her embarrassingly unsophisticated expression of attraction. Though it appeared he had not seen , her reaction did not escape him. Now with her back to him, Michael reacted. He smiled, and glanced down, at once pleased and amused with his effect on her.

It was time to resume their flight. As he produced his wings, the tee shirt could be heard to rip, giving way to the wings. She turned to look at him incredulously, shaking her head. He exhibited an, 'Oh well, it was insufficient anyway and I couldn't help it' attitude. Smiling rakishly, he scooped her up and flew west, the tattered shirt flapping in the wind then flying away free of its unappreciative occupant. Jillian giggled at the butterfly tickles in her tummy caused by the rapid ascent. She kissed his cheek in gratitude of the fun of it.

They followed the setting sun and watched as it painted the sky in broad streaks of lavender, fuchsia and gold. During the trip, Jillian would catch Michael staring at her periodically. She would smile and give him a kiss in exchange for his delight. It did not take long for Michael to get them to the farm. They were there within a few hours. He could have gotten their sooner, but had to slow his flight to accommodate her limitations. Still they made incredible time. It would have taken days by traditional means. 'Angel Air' was handy. She found she loved flight. She found she loved him.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Serenity

Situated in the softly rolling green hills just inland from the Pacific Ocean and Northeast of Helena, Jillian's farm was idyllic. Michael stood on the highest hill considering this place. He thought how peaceful it was away from bustling cities. They had their good points, cities did, but he preferred the structures of his Father's art over those of man. Just then an ocean breeze brushed through his hair and jostled the feathers of his sunning wings. Jillian's horses played in their pasture. One mare had a foal by her side who darted about annoying his mother and aunts in their more sophisticated interactions. The cattle and goats milled about grazing. The chickens were being scattered by her bounding dogs occupations .

He could smell the pungent herbs and vegetables growing in their fields mingled with the fresh scent of the evergreens in the forest behind him. This was as it should be. Additionally, it had not escaped his notice that he didn't feel possessed to slaughter everything. How good that was! He marveled at how like Jillian her home was: vital, productive, full of life and potential, life giving, really… and regenerative, spirit filling, fresh, wild. She, like it, was a complex ecosystem of everything in a concert of perfect harmony. She deserved better. After all, he was angel kind and rather a problem angel at that.

He fumbled with his new shirt….blouse is what it was, he thought. Hellenic men's styles were a bit excessive for his taste, but the fabrics were quite to his liking. Jillian told him he was beautiful in the intricately appointed clothing. It suited his stately bearing she had said. He had chosen one of the least flourished styles she brought him and allowed he would wear it, but only if she found it in black. She had rolled her eyes at him but agreed to his terms. It made him smile to think of her shopping for him.

She was good for him. There were no boundaries between them. Mindlessly he removed the 'blouse', slipped free his blades, drew a deep cleansing breath and began a routine that celebrated his sense of freedom and joy. It was composed of strong, light movements and leg sweeps which flowed like the air around him punctuated with a series of horizontal spins and vertical flips. His solitary exercise was interrupted by one of his sword strokes meeting obstruction.

Jillian had been in the forest foraging for mushrooms, berries and pine nuts. She had set her basket down at the woods' edge and watched his flowing kata. She recognized elements and decided to join him. They moved slowly at first, blocking and fluidly avoiding and pushing off attacking moves using one another's momentum to disarm the strength of an advance. Then it became as the wind danced. Quick, sweeping power, encountering obstruction and seeking outlet under, over, around then rising up, spinning to a dervish and settling, having stirred all around it.

They spun to a stop facing one another, her head bowed, her sword held to her left hip. Her free hand held her blade to her, angled back and down in a finishing salute. He with his arms out stretched in front of him, blades crossed facing down as signal of his respectful acquiescence to her. He spun the blades so quickly the metal sang and replaced them in their sheaths, his eyes regarding her with admiration and more. "Extraordinary. Where did you learn that?" He inquired.

Jillian smiled retrieving her basket of the forest's bounty." I can't reveal all of my secrets. A woman must maintain an air of mystery to remain… intriguing," she said as she made her way past him. Coyly brushing her shoulder by his bare chest she resumed her way back to the house. "You stay, you seem a bit out of practice, "she teased him over her shoulder.

He laughed thinking her assessment an amusing idea, then considered the parry sequence of their encounter and thoughtfully began a mock repeat of it. Finishing and realizing its complete perfection, he snorted derision at the very idea. Then shook his head smiling at how easily she had baited him.

Hours later, he was still on the hill practicing mental and physical control techniques, having achieved such a stillness within that forest animals had wandered near, drawn to the peace. Jillian ringing the house bell's tone that had been assigned to signal him broke Michael away from his focus and being suddenly 'visible', all of the creatures flushed and ran in a commotion. Michael reshirted himself and coasted over the vineyard to the farmhouse.

Michael thought the house was a treasure. Jillian had created its design and appointments. It was a blend of intelligent practical design and heart stopping beauty. It had sweeping columned open galleries and interior spaces with sumptuously dressed niches. Fireplaces warmed every room, though the whole was temperate year round by a central geothermal system which also supplied the farm's power grid.

There were indoor and outdoor spaces within. A stylized brook fed by the over flow from the artesian water source flowed through the main rooms babbling peacefully into a central courtyard and cascading into a pool wherein swam sun perch and trout there in the midst of the interior garden. The fish were meant to be food, but they had become pets for Jillian and she would permit no harm to them. They made his mouth water as he considered the meal the fat fish would make.

The stream then tumbled in a waterfall over into a pool whose overflow trickled to quench every manner of citrus and nut tree and specialty herbs for food and medicinal use. And there were flowers. Jillian loved blossoms of every kind and they grew in great profusion. There was an elaborate bell tower that rose skyward from the courtyard. Accessed by a counter weight lift or spiral staircase, it was practical as an armed defense point and outlook. Of course it housed the signal bell that invited him to return indoors. Michael had laid claim to the bell tower's small gilded studio as a retreat.

Oh, and he couldn't forget his favorite aspect of the house- brook. It forked at one point just past the great room and the second stream flowed to the master bath where it cascaded as a waterfall over the top of the sunken shower's stone back wall, flowed across its glittering mica flecked midnight blue stone floor which, he noted, made you feel as if you were walking on a night sky, and into the sunken to a lower level Roman lounging tub of the same 'night sky' stone . It was inspired.

The home's furnishings were designed to envelope one in luxurious comfort held within deeply carved unique wood frames. He thought them notable because they did not impress as being heavy, though they were substantial. Curves and arches implying the feminine predilection of Hellenic culture flourished throughout. Art dressed the walls in many forms from classical to natural finds in groupings.

Michael very much liked the large found feather vase. To Jillian's delight, he had offered to add one of his own feathers to it. He had chosen a large iridescent one. It flashed its prism of colors as one passed the arrangement, quite putting the other feathers to shame, including, he thought with pleasure, the peacock ones.

Soft draping skirted the rooms strategically so that, Jillian told him, she could make the air movement visible. Another of his favorite aspects was an elongated octagonal conservatory off of the guest suites which was enclosed by elaborate and beautiful beveled glass soaring up to a cathedral ceiling. Superb, he thought, positively celestial. Nothing was ordinary.

Michael believed he was joining Jillian in the house to start dinner preparations. He enjoyed to fashion meals with her, but she was not in the spacious kitchen. "Jillian," he called to her. " In the great room, Michael", she returned. When he went into the great room, he saw she was dressed in an exquisite garment that complimented her curvaceous lithe body. A passing breeze lifted the floor length gossamer fabric accenting her shoulders and danced with it briefly. She looked like a goddess he thought, and it was his favorite color on her, ice blue.

He felt his passion for her igniting and was wearing an associated expression of lustful appreciation which, upon sensing another, he wiped away quickly. "You have a guest," he stated the obvious. The guest was equally exquisitely attired and turned in her chair to face him.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Revelations

Uriel's expression bade him to hold his tongue. He did, for now. Jillian introduced him to his sister, "Michael, this is my teacher, martial arts master, mentor, associate and dearest friend, Holy Priestess of Helena, Laurel. Holy Priestess, may I present the Archangel Michael." Michael crossed his hands behind his back, in a 'what the hell are you up to Uriel' kind of way but properly and courteously addressed her, " Holy Priestess Laurel, it is my distinct honor to make your acquaintance." So this is where you have been for the past 25 years, sister, he thought considering the implications of this information.

Uriel smiled reservedly and nodded her acknowledgement of his address, but in keeping with her Priestly station in service to the Divine Feminine, did not return his salutation. "Laurel was also my contact in Helena when I was at the Lab." Jillian continued. "Truly," Michael deadpanned with annoyed interest at the revelation while scrutinizing Uriel's every move.

He was not yet aware of her part in his salvation. He thought she had not responded to his summons. Now he thought she had not responded to help even at Jillian's request. He considered just waylaying her, but there could be house damage. He liked this house. Instead, he just glared at her with an expression that could melt empyrean steel.

Jillian thought she heard thunder… indoors. She glanced at Michael as it felt to her as though he were the source. The room fairly sizzled with ill will. Michael thought he guarded his thoughts in time. He had not.

"Sister!" Jillian exclaimed rising from her chair.

"Damn," Uriel said. "Really, Michael? That's the best you could manage?" Uriel spit her words at him.

"At least I manage to make a timely appearance when summoned," Michael jabbed.

"Please, one of you tell me something pertinent now or heads will roll," Jillian, threatened.

The sibling archangels glared at each other. First to look away lost and had to tell the telling. Uriel began, "Jillian, my dear, I am the Archangel Uriel, Michael's sister."

"I thought you looked familiar when you healed Michael and returned his life," Jillian admitted .

"What!" exclaimed Michael.

"Thank you for your help. Thank you for your gifts," Jillian said to Uriel, punctuating each gratitude with a kiss to each of Uriel's glowing cheeks.

"You came? You were present at… my death?" Michael asked his sister.

"She was, Michael and your brother, Gabriel. He was bereft to see you in death," Jillian told him. Michael was surprised and pleased and needed to know more. "Tell me all of it," Michael requested of her.

Jillian had not told him of that day's events. He had not asked. He needed time. She needed time. Now, it was time. She told him everything that transpired. Uriel confirmed it. Michael walked to his sister and embraced her. "Thank you, sister. I am indebted to you. I believed you hadn't come to my request." He turned from her, crossed his hands behind him and thoughtfully admitted, "And I was certain Gabriel had ordered my capture. Apparently Furiad acted alone." Michael wheeled to face Uriel and said with fuming intensity, "He must be held accountable. "

"I have it on good authority that Gabriel is handling that," Uriel reported. She thought back on her visit to Gabriel's aerie. Gabriel wanted to kill them all. Furiad, the rebellious high guard who had followed him in the assault on his brother, but Uriel convinced him to reconsider.

Since Furiad had not killed Michael with his own hands, Gabriel would not execute him. Instead he imprisoned the errant angel indefinitely, in a stone cell deep inside the mountain …where he could only stand facing one direction…in the dark. Gabriel wanted him to feel something similar to his experience at losing Michael…until, Gabriel had said, "I get bored of hearing Furiad beg for his freedom and he pledged on pain of slow, painful death to serve truly."

The entire High Guard that followed Furiad had their wings publically clipped and so could not fly again and had to serve doing menial duties until Gabriel could be assured they no longer followed Furiad. Uriel thought that was well done by her brother.

"And," Uriel added with genuine admiration, "congratulations on receiving your redemption, Michael. You are to be commended for persevering." She touched his face and bowed her head in a quick moment of loving respect.

Michael slightly raised his chin a bit surprised at her compliment then considering how to respond and thinking there was no verbal response suitable, he gave a nod of acceptance. Then was caught in a retrospective which shown in the seriously contemplative expression the exchange left him wearing momentarily. "And now sister, tell us of your Priestly avocation. How did you come to be in Helena these many years," asked Michael?

"She is why," said Uriel indicating Jillian. Now Uriel would complete the telling she had begun. "Father called to me one day, long before he left, and said, when it was time that I was to teach her and watch over her and one day set her in place at a facility called Simonfeld, Madison, Huddle. It would be universally and personally important. So it was.

Jillian has many gifts which Father provided, as you are well aware, brother...and some of which you are not." Turning now to the other woman in the room, Uriel said, "It has been a pleasure to teach you, to know you, to call you friend, Jillian. Father would be very pleased with you, as am I."

"But I didn't save him. I didn't keep him from dying. "Said Jillian. " I don't think I did much at all."

Uriel said, "You weren't there to stop his death. You were there for all of the other things. To remind him out of his darkness how special Father's children can be, to be an island of comfort for him, to alert me when his time was at hand, to be able to survive Gabriel's reaction as he faced the consequences of his wasteful war, to be all that you are in this epic of Father's." Michael let this settle on his mind. Looking at Jillian, he said with wonder, "Father brought you forth …for my sake."

"For your sake, for all of us. Father is… well, He is…Father," Uriel stated with love, respect and awe. She smiled at Michael, then at Jillian and left.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The Blending

That night, Michael and Jillian lay on the plush, soft rug before the crackling fire in the great room, a sumptuous throw about them for added floof. The flowing drapery fluttered gently in the evening breeze. The silver bell like tinkling of the babbling house-brook relaxed them. They lay side by side, hand in hand, half empty glasses of wine standing sentinel. She wore a softly draping sheer garment meant for lounging in this way. It was Mediterranean blue and had tonal beading that edged the entirety in a frame of richness. Michael, shirtless, wore midnight blue velvet trousers. He adopted the color because of his affinity for the stone of that shade in the shower...and Jillian thought the color enhanced his eyes. The trousers fit his form like a glove and gave for comfort. There was the requisite Hellenic flourish; a tasteful embroidered golden scroll evoking a leafy grape vine dressed the point of his left hip.

Michael stared into the fire pensively, its light playing on his face as he thought of how much was given, made, lost, threatened in his behalf. He considered how much his Father must love him. ..how much he loved and missed his Father. How much he loved Jillian. He worried he was still not worthy of the happiness he held. He worried how might he fail again then becoming a threat to that which he loved. He was still possessed of all that could cause everything to be lost, destroyed. Could he continue to carry the burden? And being so burdened was he worthy of the love Jillian bore him? Passion they could readily share, but did he even know what love was to her…to him with her? Would he one day kill her in a ripping, mindless rage? The fire leapt as if lashed to his turmoil.

"I feel your anguish," Jillian said.

"Well, you were there though the worst of it, Michael said, thinking she meant the lab business and only turning slightly from his captive gaze into the fire. " Your empathy is strong, one of your finest gifts."

"No, love, the anguish here." She sat up and moved one hand to his head and there it hovered at his temple without touching. The other settled over his heart, no just under, she sensed. She tilted her head to and fro softly, intently as if hearing something nearly inaudible. She spoke what she knew. " You are transcendent, Michael. Great power, strength, responsibility are yours, and so great deeds - mighty deeds. But not all decisions, choices will be or even can be right, though they are made with the best intent. You have laid great waste and raised spectacular victory. You have made great sacrifice. You have redeemed yourself. Now you block your own happiness concerned that you may slip into rage again someday. Michael, you have strength beyond the dark, you are light. Not just Holy Light, but …Good. You will find your way."

Breaking from her deep study of her love, she took a breath and sighed a knowing sigh. She saw him still caught in his trepidation. "Come here, Michael," she invited, opening her arms to him. He gathered himself up and leaned into her brushing the studied temple against hers ever so lightly then letting cheek bones touch and rest there as they breathed. " Take your ease with me," she sighed to him, her hand caressing his face. " There are none of us without misdeeds, burdens." She used the word he had thought. He shifted a bit uncomfortably now as he realized she had heard his worry so specifically. She stopped her soothing touch and held his gaze with the intensity of her own. "I love all that you are, all that you have been, all that you will become. Light of my life, let us shelter here together in one another and be happy." She smiled up at him.

Now he considered 'the question': "What makes you think I'm capable of love," Should he raise disconcerting question at this time? He would ask it because of genuine concern. He did wonder if, when he felt love, it was the same as human love. But he also used it to keep lovers off balance. Not at all to be cruel, but to make them guard themselves from him. After all, and for good reason, it was not permitted for one of heavens angels to lay with a human. Such forbidden love never ended well.

He always knew from the start of every encounter that he would have to bear the pain of loss. That he would have to get his loved one to leave him or he would have to terminate what they shared himself at some point. He especially did this with someone for whom his devotion was beyond the pursuit of mere lust.

With this, he could gently remind his love that he was not of man. It had always been effective at keeping distance bertween him and the fragile humans he had taken to him. It had broken his heart when his prompts had finally gotten Becca thorn to end their relationship. He had let them go on too long because of his own requirement and she had paid dearly. He would always regret that. He did not wish to allow that in this situation. He did, truly, deeply love Jillian.

So now he did her this kindness. He was not ready to end this, but he was not willing to let Jillian suffer the long game of chess that was always his love life. She did deserve better. He would plant the doubt. The words almost caught in his throat, "What makes you think I'm capable of love?" He waited for the look of hurtful comprehension, not showing any of the roiling emotions that taxed him. Jillian did not dip to the concerned frown that usually punctuated the question. She continued to smile at him. Then she challenged, "What in the world ever made you think you weren't?" He laughed aloud his melodic laugh. of course, she had seen his heart. He was found out...and checkmated.

He had never felt such peace. They settled and again lay together before the warming fire. Ancient as he was, he felt…young. A warrior angel seldom has respite from the rage that drives him in his duty. Meditation, prayer, the discipline of his craft, the confidence in commands are his only solace. Yet here in the strength that is gentle, with this rare human possessed of the power to quiet his storm he could let down his walls and end the siege. He was content.

They had both stood just then, intending to go for more wine to serve the other. They laughed at their similar train of thought. Then Michael could hold back no longer, that which needed to be. "I adore you," he whispered to her… and everything. As they stood together, they slipped from their elaborate evening dressings to a more divine state, baring their bodies to answer their need for closeness. He held her feeling love he had never imagined could be his to know. She had soothed him in his trials. In her loving acceptance of him she reached into his darkness and saved him from spiritual turmoil, the failings of his own making, past and present.

Jillian's compassion saved him from the emotional despair of his long destructive solitude. Her intelligence kept his mind blissfully engaged. She spoke to the very foundation of his soul and his soul needed her. She was equal to him and all to him. Having now recovered his full strength and healed from his wounds he felt compelled to share even more than the physical love they had cherished. But physical love was precious and it was the way to begin what was to follow.

"Come, let me love you," he said as both an invitation and a plea. It was a request to more than her body's desire. Closing his eyes to focus on the pleasure of her, the archangel pressed his lips to hers. She welcomed him with the same gentle intensity he offered. During the kiss, they both opened their eyes simultaneously and stared into the depths of one another's passion. There was more there, now. Devotion, commitment and unguarded sharing were present.

She parted her lips from his and gasped slightly with the pleasure that was his entering her. He was gentle, purposeful, giving. It was unbelievably humbling to experience the immense power that was Michael show such tenderness. He leaned his torso away from hers minutely. His strong hand caressing the side of her face, he gazed deeply into her eyes. There was much he wished to say to her, but he was given to propose this: "Let us be joined"

She smiled and said softly, lovingly, and with a little confusion, "I believe we are." He held his gaze as if seeing something beyond her, then smiled and broke the contact looking now full at her face before him, he said, "Part your lips and take my breath within you." He moved his lips toward her slowly, ceremoniously. When their lips embraced, he exhaled into her pressing his lips in a feathery kiss at the end. She felt a bit lightheaded with oxygen deprivation her scientific self-thought, but no. She always felt like she floated when he kissed her.

Looking at her but beyond her, by conduit of her eyes , he said," Now take my essence into you." He held her face cupped in his hands, drew his lips slowly ever closer to hers just before touching and there exhaled once again. She felt something other than breath, something complexly spiced . It clung like nectar as it slipped over her mouth and permeated her. She recalled the plasma of his essence and that it thickened the air as it lingered, was this that? She was washed in a warmth that smoldered deep in her chest.

She felt as if a light had shown throughout her being and uplifted her spirit. He withdrew his mouth again pressing a light kiss first. Her closed eyes opened and saw him before her as if for the first time. She gasped with wonder, "Is that you, my love!? Do I see…YOU?"

He in his luminous celestial form now smiled lovingly acknowledging, "And there you are, my love." He was now face to face with the pure energy that was the eternal soul of Jillian, of she to whom he had spoken his proposal. Jillian's corporeal form was there within. She was an apparition of stunning radiance. He smiled hesitantly, almost shyly, afraid this joy was a dream.

He was uncertain momentarily of how to proceed, then clarity registered and resolved, he said to her, "Now take all that I am within you." His wings unfurled as flowing rivers of radiant light and with them in this mutual state of sustained magnificence, he moved toward her and into her. Their bodies, their souls, all that they were mingled in an ecstasy of shared existence. Their singular song issued forth from their joined creation as they caressed, explored, blended.

The surrounding atmosphere could not bear the resonance of them and ignited briefly encircling them in fire. Slowly he separated from her. "Don't go," she breathed. Said he, "I want to feel your lips on mine." She smiled wanting the same. She would never not want that. He shimmered as he took more of his physicality to bear and kissed her long and passionately. Both of them sated, he wisped within her presence again and there they tarried, at once consumed in the wonder of one another and the expansiveness of the creation of which they were a part.

In the fullness of time, he withdrew from her and stood before her once more. They both flickered into corporeal form. The air about them was a misty reminder of their spectacular encounter. Michael's great wings rustled as they reseated. Both were wearing tears of joy. "We are joined", he said with a sense of having accomplished the remarkable. It was remarkable. This was something he had never experienced in his long life. This was something no being had experienced.

He continued to explain as much of what he knew of this event as he could," I am with you always and you with me. A part of each resides within the other. "She said, totally happy and yet feigning a touch miffed," You might have asked." He smiled, amused and said," I did. I asked permission of your soul and was welcomed… whole heartedly, I assumed"…playfully jousting with her mock terseness while catching one of her tears with a brush of his hand and following through by adjusting her hair out of her face and behind an ear. They pressed close. She was shivering. He wrapped a wing about her.

She was a child of man and as such, unable to know her own full self completely. Michael had made his proposal to the part of her that was eternal and all knowing. She knew this. She registered the depth of their sharing in her expression and now being in full contact with her consciousness, her whole soul now accessed, she said to him with the force of all of her considerable being, "My everything is never further from you than your own breath." She touched her hand to his breast in pledge of her devotion and feeling complete honor in what he had given her of himself and through that, of her own self. He placed his hand over hers appreciating that she accepted him and understood, shared, walked with him as one.

He would tell her later all that their bonding had availed to him as he had grown from her uniqueness. He would tell what he had seen for their future. How they would locate Alex and help him realize his potential as Savior and end the conflict between man and angel. How their blending was in fulfillment of Father's intention that it was time his most elite higher angel and his most precious child in humanity joined to advance his creation. How their joined force and good work would heal the war ravaged domain and reach through 'The Veil' drawing Father to again be among them.

For now, he reveled in knowing that with her all things could be shared and he would never again be isolated. Never again have to be alone. He was humbled by the intricate elegance of it all. He had been poised to become the end of all things. He was an ostracized, destroyed and destructive individual. A damned soul, lost in the darkness and despair of his failings. Now it was he who would be the beacon of Light, the seed of Salvation.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Enlightenment

Jillian had retreated to her room for, she had told Michael, a rest. She stood with a grave expression. She closed her eyes and focused. She flashed into her newly released spiritual form. This time, she let all she was come forth. The beautiful radiance she had appeared to Michael as was first to manifest. Then she took more of all of the life force that had been imploded to a tiny speck within that and let it blossom into fruition.

Her essence spilled into a dense radiant nebula about her central pulsating brilliance. She felt her great wings ripple forth as licking white flame. Her being was beyond comprehension. She spoke in a celestial voice that was not audible to anything or anyone but to the one she addressed. "Dearest Father, it is I, Jilli-an. This of your first ones has learned well your lessons here and relished these lives, as only in this bound corporeal form could we have come to know… such things! I am humbled and ready to advance and serve your creation. I deeply, truly love the young one who has become my salvation, my freedom, my other. He is rare and worthy. By our blending, he has grown to be my equal."

Her radiance pulsed to a darker manifestation as she added sadly, "I must share with you that there are those who have not developed to temper themselves and their ambitions. They seek not to advance creation as a part of it but to attain their own godhood. Let these of your offspring remain bound while they grow. There is still hope for them. "

Then she flared brightly with a blush of pink to her essence as she thought of Michael. " I ask that I be allowed to share our deepest secret with our beloved. He is capable of knowing all now." She flushed to a golden white light with the apparent response. "Thank you! I have never known such joy. All Glory is yours Father.

And my Dearest Mother? Father, does she thrive? At the sound of her Mothers's voice, Jillian exclaimed, "Mother! I am overjoyed to hear you. I honor you and send my devotion." Jillian collected herself to say her farewells. " I shall continue to learn and serve, Father, Mother. Until we again part The Veil, I remain your loving child." She flickered to soft light with the departure of communion with her Creators...her parents.

Michael entered the room, smiling with wondrous admiration at the splendor of his mate. "Father permitted me to hear you." The center of Jillian's essence shaded purple with red at the sound of him. She phased to corporeal so that she could embrace her dear one. Michael marveled, "Who could imagine I would be the younger! Now I understand why Father wanted us to protect mankind… why he cherishes you so."

Jillian acknowledged his understanding with a slight nod. She added, though she knew he already understood," Creation ebbs and flows, learns and is ever becoming. It races from one form of Decline and Salvation to another. It is… the living entity in which we are nurtured and continually labor. There is still much work to be done."

"Yes, evidently, " Michael agreed, pulling her to him, his desire evident in his expression. " But this 'Advent of Salvation' won't wait," he added, the double entendre not escaping Jillian. "Oh, I agree…and I celebrate its coming," she said, inspired by his passion.

Michael _**was**_ the Advent of Salvation. It would be the title the archangel would have added to his duty, to his accomplishments. It was he who saw the necessity of the boy's survival and nurtured the Chosen One. It was Michael who stopped the weavings of what would have been destruction to humanity, angel kind and creation. And he had released her bound nature by his love. She, more than anyone, rejoiced in him.

So, Michael had played with the title just then and following suit with his intentions, she had fashioned her response to his 'Advent of Salvation not being able to wait ' announcement. Now she smiled tentatively and glanced down a bit shyly. For some reason she was momentarily uncertain of her risqué word play with him. His smiling expression of slightly shocked but approving amusement at her phrasing eased her mind at once. They laughed aloud softly at their naughty silliness and fell together in a tender embrace.

Michael's radiance began to envelope her and hers, him as they kissed. They would remain corporeal. In the ultimate expression of physical love, they would conceive in this sharing. They both saw this revelation during the height of their passion. Their essences erupted in a sparkling fire of joy with the news that they would be parents.

This was a miracle that was possible because Jillian's kind were the children of Father… and her Mother. They were born of love…begotten, not made. They were genetically related to their parents and born in their image. Michael's kind were made by their Father. They were creations who rose from his requirement and whom he loved for their devotion and service to Him.

When Father had discovered the depth of Michael and his ability to grow beyond…to transcend his purpose, Father did weep. He had made in Michael the equal of his own born children. Jillian's empathic nature would temper Michael's fury. Their child would be powerful and wise and furious and compassionate…perfect. They were a match… made in heaven.

The one thing Michael had secretly, in his heart of hearts, always desired, was to be a Father. It was a thing he could never admit or permit. Alex was as close to a child as he would ordinarily ever have known. With Jillian it was now possible…allowed… by his Father's plan to become a parent. He gave thanks to his Father and… to Jillian's Mother. Jillian was his bringer of joy, she was his life's salvation. He could not love her more.

Jillian's Mother, delighted with re-emergence of her newly unbound and dearest daughter, had not yet reclosed her view through 'The Veil' and heard Michael's gratitude. She was impressed with what she had seen of her daughter's mate. Now, she was very pleased that Michael had shown this respect to her and that he so loved her child. As evidence of her favor, she gifted the couple with another enlightenment. This child of Michael and Jillian's would be mate to the Savior's child. The budding parents ' essences flared again with celebration that their child's future would have love in it…and purpose for she told them that their child and their child's mate, would be fruitful and multiply a glorious gift to creation.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Dominions

Raphael stood on the huge rock out cropping on the ocean's edge regarding the grandeur of the place with admiration. He loved Father's handiwork. Shortly he was joined by Lucifer. "Lucifer, what is this? Why did you summon me? Moreover, how dare you summon me! You have none of the rights of heaven."

"I have dominion in this place, Raphael. I have authority to summon you," Lucifer told his fellow archangel. "You do not even have dominion over your own impulses, Lucifer," Raphael taunted. "Who do you think is master of the devastation taking place here? I am, Raphael! I have power and you should respect that, standing here in my backyard." Raphael sneered, but silenced his berating briefly.

"You have had your head in the sand long enough Raphael," said Lucifer. "My head is where I choose it to be, where Father requires it to be, Damned of Heaven." Lucifer shook his head and rolled his eyes at the tired insult. "You just can't help yourself… "Lucifer swiped through his clenched teeth and under his breath at Raphael, "you sanctimonious winged vermin!"

Lucifer didn't look damned. He had wavy blonde hair, violet eyes and was lovely of form. He was tall, graceful, strong with a lithe medium build of well-defined muscling. His visage shimmered with the brightness of the morning star. You could get lost in his gaze. And his voice was hypnotic. You wanted to believe anything he said. He was charming and quick of wit. Were it not for his inability to meter the corruption in his nature, he would have remained among the greatly exalted of heaven.

He addressed Raphael's slight in full voice, "Yes, yes, sticks and stones. You want to stand here and hurl insults, I get that, but you need to know that Father has bypassed you for that little half-wit, half- pretty, complete ass, Michael again. Michael is all snuggled in with his lady love and making a new atrocity to 'command the earth' (he exaggerated the words) …and whatever Father feels like doling out to his newest little experiments." Lucifer spit the words at Raphael, over-run with his disgust at the prospect.

"I am at peace with Father's plan, Lucifer. It is perfection. I have my own occupations to attend." Raphael turned from the fallen archangel to again regard the landscape. As spectacular as the surroundings were, they paled in light of Raphael. _**He**_ was physically a perfection of creation. Even his corporeal manifestation was nearly celestial. And he had the ability to manifest as male or female. In his current form, his long flowing black hair made the striking color of his flashing silver eyes all the more uncommon. His black wings were dusted in silvery iridescence.

Raphael was tall, broad at the shoulders, narrow at the hip. His muscling was prominent and defined. High cheek bones and full lips graced his strong facial features which were etched like a Greek sculpture. His skin was nearly golden. He moved with the fluidity and precision only strength provides, as was characteristic of all archangels. He carried radiance with him likened to a permanent hint of halo. Often, he shimmered between essence and corporeal. Even other angels were affected by his shining beauty. He was fascinating to behold.

The only thing more beautiful than Raphael's physical appearance was his mind. The acrobatics of his intellect gave him insights many of his siblings lacked. He surpassed even Uriel and Lucifer was positively dull to him. Raphael was as near the perfect angel as his Father could create and so his Father left him to his own devices. He and his twin, Uriel were more intellectually inclined. Though, he was not as effective at traditional archangel duties as Gabriel and Michael were.

Lucifer's distain of Michael amused Raphael. He was certain Lucifer's attitude was based in jealousy. Raphael admired Michael above all of his siblings. Michael was masterful at the art of war and its nuances. He could create tactics, deploy heavenly forces and weaponry with unmatched precision to meet the threat. His every thought and action was a calculated execution of purpose. He could single handedly smite tens of thousands of any foe …short of the High Guard or his siblings. He was the ultimate protector of creation and Father's masterpiece of archangel skill.

Raphael was always amazed at Michael's resilience, and his capacity to be compassionate while carrying the burden of ruthless fury. Their siblings felt this dichotomy made Michael weak. Raphael understood the strength of him. With his ability to manage the matters of heaven and the dominions of creation, he was most like unto their Father of all of the angels. Michael was not only an admired and honored fellow archangel to Raphael, he was a true brother and friend.

Though Raphael was possessed of the arts necessary for archangel duties, he was always distracted by matters of science and philosophy. Raphael's gift was that he possessed the skills necessary to heal…even creation. His Father had sent him beyond the Second Veil to tend and restore the shattered creation there. Now, with so much turmoil in the First Creation, Raphael had become open to summons and Lucifer sought to lasso the brilliant archangel into helping him stop the course his Father had chosen for Lucifer's favorite toys, mankind.

Lucifer loved tormenting humanity, mentally, physically, spiritually. They were so easy to manipulate. Tearing them apart before they could learn enough to attain their spiritual salvation was his favorite game, second only to setting the archangels up for damnation. When they failed, it was huge…it was nearly unfixable. It was such a delight!

He had been moments from getting Michael dragged down when EVERYTHING changed. He had gotten Gabriel and Uriel to taunt Michael into rage, making them believe they created the plot to serve their own devices. Lucifer excelled at that kind of deception. Uriel and Gabriel would be furious when they caught on.

It had been a failsafe plan with every avenue of aid and escape blocked. He had Michael isolated and broken. How could anyone that far gone and with as much raging darkness as Michael stay free from the Pit? Why should he? What did Father see in him? It was unfathomable and Lucifer would not have it.

He was positively rabid with fury over the turn of events. He was going to get back at his Father for this. One way or another, he would have Michael in the Pit. He would stop this "Advent of Salvation" annoyance. He would control this realm. He deserved it.

They could all have their own little dominions. Raphael could have his science…his patch everything up party favors or whatever enthralled him wherever in creation he was. Father was obviously enjoying existence elsewhere and He could just stay there for all Lucifer cared. He preferred things as they were in His absence. Everything was so… malleable.

But he, not Gabriel nor Uriel, not the Chosen One, certainly not Michael or his crawling, mewling offspring, would have dominion over this seat of creation. He would see to it. Lucifer was a master of multi-tasking and he had allies. Powerful ones. They were interspersed throughout Gabriel's forces. They had infiltrated the communities of man. And he had won over to his purpose, Zadkiel, who managed the day to day business of heaven.

Zadkiel had pleaded with his Father not to lock the Gates, to allow him to continue to operate the realm that was the angel's residence. But Father had cast him out…locked him away from his home and his purpose. Made of him- Ruler of Heaven- no more than the dogs of heaven. He blamed Michael. If Michael had not been disobedient and gone to Earth to save the Chosen One from his intended demise, none of this humiliation, this destitution would have happened.

Zadkiel's bitterness made him a prime target for Lucifer. Lucifer wasted no time in courting him. It had taken decades, but finally Zadkiel joined Lucifer's cause. And so he conspired and configured and finally succeeded in creating the path which led Lucifer into heaven through an alternate route, circumventing Fathers lock on heaven's entryways.

Then, with the key it had taken him years to suss out from the guardian of heaven's arsenal, Elazriel, now an ally by despicable coercion, Lucifer managed to acquire a smattering of the sealed weapons of the Almighty.

The only way Lucifer's plan could be thwarted was for Michael, Gabriel, Uriel this new Savior and Raphael to unite forces against him. That was unlikely. He and his Fallen of Heaven had become mighty and there were ways in place to prevent that.

xxxx

When Michael had been subjected to attack by first the Welrupt and then the Tablet of Unmaking, he had realized the possible implications. But he had thought his older brother dead. Could it be that Lucifer was alive, free of the Pit and making inroads here…and into heaven? Michael knew he had to raise the bar if humanity would be preserved, if this beautiful dominion would be saved from becoming as Lucifer's Pit.

Michael, lost in deep thought set down his cup of coffee and stepped out onto the back gallery of the lovely residence. In the radiant sun splashed light of morning he stood in the breeze on the terrace facing the sea. His close fitting trousers and draping liquid knit top fluttered about him . The sound of that was shattered by his wing presentation. They would amplify his summons. They resonated as he began to employ them, focusing his thoughts. His summons would be unprecedented. He would be calling for a Conclave of Archangels. He hoped Raphael would hear the call and join them. He needed his brother's knowledge of other dominions of creation and his ability to heal . No one here knew of mankind's true origins save Michael and Jillian. That would be an advantage in what was to come…if it remained an unknown. Michael knew it would take all of them, Raphael, Alex, Gabriel, Uriel and Jillian joining forces to save humanity, angel kind and this world from the impending threat of a raging rein of Hell. It would make the Extermination Wars look like a cake walk. The salvation of creation must bring them together in their mission or all here would be lost.

He was about to send out his summons when he was seized with a wave of intense dizziness. He staggered to the bed and gasping, clutched his head. He fell to the bed unconscious. When he awoke, he felt compelled to take flight. "Go East." He kept hearing. He put on his scabbards and swords and reached into the back of the huge clothing closet. There he had secreted a hooded coat that would serve well in the wastelands. He put it on and without a word to Jillian, flew…East.

His mind was filled with unrecognizable and disturbing images as he flew. They confused him, disoriented him. He couldn't break through them to send his thoughts to Jillian. He regretted not having spoken to her. Why hadn't he spoken to her before flying off like that? He couldn't focus. More disturbing turmoil assaulted his senses. He had never felt so…invaded. He had to land.

He was over a patch of live oak forest in the Northwestern Texas panhandle and settled in a shallow valley at the edge of a river. He thought perhaps food would stop whatever this was and thought a small fish might be appropriate. He did not make it to the water. He fell to the ground, unconscious. He did not see the odd stranger who emerged from the brush to stand over him with a menacing large grin, shading him briefly with the brim of his large hat. The quiet was broken by his unsettling chuckle.

When Michael awoke he was alone. He did not know where he was. He was dazed, confused, lost. He felt as though he had been in the middle of something and the whole plan had gotten changed. What did he remember last? Oh. Vega. What he had done in Vega. What he did to Alex. No wonder he couldn't remember. Who would want to? He had been as a beast. Shameful. Why could he never fully control that part of himself?

He thought of Father. He alone could help. He looked about him and said aloud. "Father, can you hear me?" Silence. Of course, the silence. Its emptiness was heartbreaking. He was angry with himself for the attempt, frustrated with the nagging in his mind. What was it he wanted so much to remember? His head hurt. He touched his temple to focus on easing the pain. "Go East." He was without his own direction, so the impulse that struck him was welcome, almost comforting. He rose to flight…East.

He had flown through a dust storm over the plains of Oklahoma and felt gritty. When he reached the spot he felt compelled to land, he was on a wide stretch of beach at the Gulf water's edge in Alabama. He wanted to wash away the grit…and the unsettled feelings, his shame, his failings. He shed his clothing and entered the waters to bathe his body…if only it could cleanse his soul and restore his spirit.

xxxx

Lucifer rummaged over his plot thus far. He had had Zadkiel deliver a Welrupt to Furiad and gift the humans the means by which to kill Michael, the Tablet of Unmaking. Who knew Michael could survive the weapon. No one and nothing was supposed to survive "The Stone." How had he managed? The fact vexed him. But the humans, bless their depraved souls, managed to accomplish the job of doing him in anyway…Lucifer loved the greedy, destructively ravenous nature of mankind that surprised him with that outcome. Shame it didn't stick…

No matter, he had regrouped. Always another plot. Another way. He had other weapons at his disposal and was using those of man who were of a mind to employ such things as 'The Stone'. He had powerful men, angels…others at his beck and call and he would entice to his purpose as needed. Such fun. There would be the deaths he relished to populate the Pit. He had all of the dominos he needed in hand, save one. Lucifer knew he might be out of his league trying to taunt Raphael into his corner. But there was someone else targeted. He had a plan and it was unfolding steadily even now. Its complexity was diabolical and delicious. He laughed as he imagined the outcome.

His laugh was not that of an angel. It was horrible and sinister, twisted and as it rose in its shrieking pitch, his beauty phased to a hideous deformity. His flesh, blackened as tar, began to slip and writhe about him deforming him into a Picassoesque version of an angel…a gargoyle like being first then twisting into a Medusan serpent-like form and forms likened to the horned, tailed beast of lore. Horrible. His plan to circumvent Father's will and insure his permanent dominion of Earth was underway. Things were afoot in Alabama and New Delphi that would hurry that along. It was going to be a splendid savagery. He laughed again, maniacally at the prospect. His Salvation of Hell was at hand.

Hope you're enjoying Dominion Season 2 and working hard to get a Season 3 so

Heaven can Raise Hell on Earth once again!


	16. Chapter 16

Salvation

Chapter 16 Lost and Found

Jillian swept into Michael's vacant bedroom with a happy flourish, humming a tune Michael had begun to compose for her on the piano the previous evening. She smiled warmly recalling the richness of his voice as he set words to his music to her. She set down the silver tray bearing their breakfast of mixed fresh fruit and walnuts with a yogurt honey and lemon juice dressing on the small dining table there for such purposes.

Seeing his half full cup of black coffee on the edge of the dresser, she hissed exasperatedly that he had set it, once again, without a coaster on the fine wood furniture. She set the still warm beverage next to his plate as she called sweetly for him, already forgiving his little faux pas. "Michael? Dearest, your breakfast is here."

She walked onto the terrace to see if he might be there, then checked to see if he was in the shower. Not finding him and noticing his blades were not in their usual place, she sat to have her breakfast where she could watch the sky. He had gone for a flight, she thought. She loved to see him in flight, so waited as she sipped her latte, to watch him return.

She toyed with her fruit, lost in thoughts of their time together. She, nestled across his lap, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder, he with arms about her waist and his cheek to her forehead while she read to him aloud a favorite verse of his from the poem, Death of Achilles. She smiled remembering his approval of her reading, giving her an appreciative snuggle.

She had things requiring her attention which broke her remembrance and set her to the business of the day. Michael may just need some time alone, so she would leave him to it. He required time to meditate, time to practice the techniques of his many gifts and he often spent time in attempts to commune with Father.

She had those requirements as well and so completely understood. Or he may have flown down to the stable for a visit with his newest friend…the Friesian stallion Adonis. It pleased her that Michael had such appreciation for him. Michael did not appear to have patience for many creatures, though he respected their lives and niches. But with very specific individuals, there would show great depth of understanding and relationship.

Her dogs' pack leader was a black, golden eyed mostly of wolf extraction, dignified fellow she called Diamond. Diamond and the splendid, also black, stallion were clearly companions of choice for Michael. She would be so amused to see them strolling; Diamond to Michael's left, Adonis to his right…all in black… like misshapen graduations of a shadow of each other.

Michael spoke their language. He would use speech …whatever language he felt like…angels knew them all…but the words would transform mentally to that of the creatures'. It was telepathic. Now that she was 'released' she too could access this type of contact. Though she had always been very sensitive to communication with all creatures, now understanding was complete, as with any being. She loved that.

Jillian's thought took its' own path and she could see the trio in her mind's eye on an outing she happened to fly within sight of once at the break of a lovely dawn. The sky was splashed in a pastel palette and the fire of the dawn lit the landscape so she could see that Michael had set Di upon Adonis. Di scrambled up onto Adonis' long, strong neck and set his chin atop the stallion's poll, half of him draped to each side of the stallion. The stallion's head tossed and dropped a tad as he flicked his ears to pop them out from under the confines of Di's great paws. Finally quietly in place, Di's fluff of a tail could be seen to brush at the equine's withers.

That left room for Michael to sit astride at Adonis' middle. Once situated, Michael unfurled his magnificent wings and with a powerful single flap, had lofted the entire group of friends. Delighted, all whooped…the stallion neighed his scream of excitement, the canine could not restrain a long howl of appreciation and Michael's deep, mellow Ha haa! rounded out their commotion.

Jillian had forgotten to flap in her amused preoccupation and had begun to drop like a stone. She remembered herself in time to keep enough height to continue watching the frolic of those who warmed her heart. As they became shadow, she thought they looked for all the world like some amalgamated dragon of lore. Recalling how she had just shaken her head at them as she lost sight of their project, she returned to the present absence of her mate's creativity. She missed him…already.

Even this brief separation caused her to feel the absence of him physically, as the deep and persistent internal ache of one deprived of requirement…a famine of presence. There was enough to do to occupy her, though her new , well, renewed abilities made quick work of it all.

The day wore on and Michael did not return. Jillian was about to spend time in a concerted mental seeking of Michael when a messenger arrived with news of her urgently being required in Helena. The city was in turmoil because of the death of Evelyn in a coup by her consort, Arika, who had long been visiting Vega. Also, no one could locate their religious leader, Holy Priestess Laurel either. Head Administrator of Medical and Social services , Jenna was away on a mission to locate non-drought/storm affected suppliers of food and grain for ethanol production. Weather had become a great devastation in most territories surrounding Helena.

The only woman of executive level leadership left was the head of Helena's protective forces, Dianna. Dianna's aggressive nature, while excellent at serving her purpose militarily, made her rub many the wrong way when she was left to manage more diplomatic services. Jillian thought since she was known to be adept at reasoning with Dianna, she was requested to mediate a matter of diplomacy.

She couldn't fly in, no one must know of her true nature, so she took the gas powered HumVee. It had been months since she had been in the city proper. She had been at the Lab for 6 months and once she and Michael set up residence at her ranch, she just used a small market center outside of Helena, a community called Selina, for cursory articles, and Michael's wardrobe requirements. She smiled at the thought of him.

The ranch was quite self-sustaining with a minimum workforce who lived on adjacent properties she maintained. While she was away, those would tend that which she and Michael now normally managed of the main facilities. Now the vehicle had entered within the outskirts of the central city. What she saw as her vehicle rumbled into Helena after her long absence shocked her.

Droughts to the north and eastern territories which supplied Helena had begun to take their toll. Many stores were closed. Power was up on some streets, down on others. Without the corn to make ethanol, cutbacks were made everywhere. With water shortages and combined fuel issues, streets had not been cleared of garbage. Sewer back-ups were spilling waste. The odors were overwhelming to her sensitive senses. She had to mentally disconnect.

With the subsequent filth, and poorer diets, illness began to spread. The illness, she was told in the closed door meeting with Jenna's subordinate, Doctor Victoria and Dianna was plague. It was up to the three of them to manage the crisis. Victoria and Dianna could not work in concert. Their clash and the enormity of the problems had made Jillian's presence necessary.

She took the reins. Immediate steps had to be taken. Her full attention had to be brought to bear to get this controlled and stopped…before it could spread. Quarantine was put in place.: No one in or out of the city. All able bodied were rounded up by Dianna's forces and assignments made for actions to locate, isolate and treat the ill and abate the filth. Entire blocks had to be razed and burned to eliminate rodent infestations. Drought had made the city's squalor a banquet to the opportunistic vermin. They were the vector for plague.

Ten days later, Helena got word Arika was returning from her stay in Vega. Jillian, Dianna and Victoria's work had made a great difference, but there was still much work to do. With the machine of order and duties designated, another could step in to manage. Jillian prepared to return home as this powerful woman, now Queen, would be in charge on her return. Dianna could brief Arika. Jillian would then be free to find Michael. Where was he?

A last minute issue kept her longer than she wanted, but it was serendipitous. She was there to hear that Michael had arrived in Vega just the day before Arika left. He had been taken ill and seemed to recover quickly, but she had no news of where he was now. Ill? Jillian considered the idea. Archangels didn't experience illness. Something was very wrong. There were things that affected them…could kill them, but they were specific and required pre- planning and/or intention to effect. Jillian listened as Arika continued to describe how Vega was lost, in shambles because of a civil war and a subsequent attack of unknown phenomena followed by the ongoing invasion of an eight-ball army.

Further, Arika informed, the Chosen One had been found. A young man named Alex Lannon had been revealed to be the Savior. He had worked a miraculous mass eviction and was still in Vega as far as she knew, fighting the attack. Arika said a new kind of angel, a Dyad, was the head of the invading Eight-balls. The Dyad was the Lady of the City's father joined in a kind of possessed blending by a Higher Angel's essence. Extraordinary happenings! So much lost and found, but where was Michael. If he was not side by side fighting with the Chosen One, something had gone badly awry.

During infrequent lulls in recent days Jillian had tried to mentally acquire contact with Michael several times to no avail. They were part of one another. Why couldn't she communicate with a part of herself? Why couldn't she reach him or him, her? Her worry kept her from hearing much else, but she did catch the last of Arika's debriefing.

Arika reported that Helena and Vega had bombed Gabriel's aerie successfully. The assumption was that the Vega disaster was somehow a retaliatory attack by his forces, but no one had seen Gabriel. No one knew if he lived. Possibly the Dyad creature was in charge of the whole of angelic activity. Arika was certain there would be movement by angels against Helena for their part in the bombing…imminently.

After the meeting, Jillian packed up the HumVee and got under way. She turned out of the ravaged city, headed south. Whatever, whoever was causing this resurgence of war could be there. Whoever or whatever kept Michael from her could be there. Michael could be there. The Chosen One was there. If, for whatever reason, Michael couldn't be fighting with, by or for the Chosen One, she must do it for him. She hoped, she would do it with him. She would find out…in Vega.

xxxx

Gabriel had gained forward position in the brothers' rapid flight toward Vega from the town of Mallory, Alabama. Michael was having trouble focusing. He recalled recent events to gain perspective. Mallory was the place Michael had been originally drawn - where he had found himself after… Vega, was it? He had lingered there after being drawn to investigate the source of a hymn he heard being sung as he woke from resting overnight beside the Gulf waters a few days earlier.

Michael had found here this idyllic rural community thriving in the middle of the wastelands. It was surrounded by marauding eight balls, but untouched by them. He stayed there a couple of days trying to find the thing that made their peaceful existence possible. He was seeking his own solace, a patch for his lost faith, a way of redemption for his murderous activity in Vega, a reason to go on in a world without Father. And what else…there was more he should remember…

He had found something there, in Mallory. It appeared to be what he'd needed and he reached for it. But all was not as it appeared to be. He had known without knowing that there was deception of some sort. In his purposeful way, he had set into growth a seed of discovery with one of the residents…a test by which he could learn more than questions and answers would reveal.

It grieved him, even now, that his ploy resulted in the death of the troubled Parker. He had not intended that harm come to her. He had made certain no one else died. He had done what he could to help the people of Mallory while the reason for the veiled nagging knowledge surfaced slowly.

The people of Mallory, especially their leader, Laurel, had shown remarkable faith in Father and he felt his own faith bolstered by it. He was grateful for Laurel's strength and , he recalled, for her affection. It was this restoration that healed his heart and helped him decide to return to his duty as Alex's mentor. Alex needed him. Michael needed the purpose of doing Father's will. And he loved the boy as a son. You made the effort to mend great wrongs done to loved ones.

Michael shuffled through his strained memory. He remembered he had found his brother along the way. He was also searching for Alex…for different reasons…but after a brief conflict and discussion, he and Gabriel managed to make a pact. They had then gone together to find Alex in New Delphi. Events there had set the chess pieces that resulted in the current hurry to save Alex.

The brothers flew at top speed now. Yes, he was heading to Vega, he unraveled from his confused mind. He had to save Alex. Michael trailed, having difficulty due to brutal beatings inflicted on him by Gabriel. Why? Why was he beaten? He struggled to recall. Oh, yes, Gabriel had been poisoned by one of heaven's weapons…'The Darkness'. The weapon made you have delusions which caused you to destroy others and would eventually lead one to self-destruct.

Gabriel had been infected with the deadly vapor by the vengeful Dyad leader of New Delphi, Julien. Millennia ago, Michael had taken exception to Julian's (then a Higher Angel called Lyrae's) brutality at the punishment of the human society at Sodom and Gomorra where Father had sent his angels to exact his wrath for their inequity. Michael had demoted Julian from Higher Angel to Lower, condemning him to an existence without his body and far from Father's grace.

Julien had captured, and tortured the brothers for their part in his long suffering. Gabriel, in an act of loving sacrifice allowed Michael opportunity to escape. Julien continued to torment Gabriel in order to break him enough to steal his mighty archangel body…to regain…wings. While he was foiled in that attempt, Julian had poisoned Gabriel with a weapon of the highest power, one of the Amphorae containing "The Darkness".

Under influence of The Darkness and with prompting by Julian, Gabriel had envisioned Michael as the source of all of his woes. He had determined to kill his twin and very nearly had. There, in Mallory, the man known as The Prophet, had just now ended Gabriel's possession by Darkness with a blaze from the Holy fire which burned in the yard of the church at Mallory and kept the eight balls at bay.

In the process, he and Gabriel made the discovery of the town of Mallory's secret - that it was a killing pool for Lucifer's purpose of feeding himself souls for power. In exchange for their protection by Holy fire , the townspeople sacrificed a life every five years. Lucifer had deceived them. He told them he was Father. They thought they served God and did so with blind faith…the best of intentions.

Almost simultaneously, he and Gabriel had recognized the dire consequences if Lucifer was free from the Pit and could actively seek the Chosen One's uniquely powerful soul as fuel. With that revelation, Gabriel rejoined with Michael in an effort to protect the coveted child. He was in danger now, this minute. They believed Noma had turned to Lucifer's service and would betray Alex to him. They hurried now to guard him from her. But it was an arduous journey for the dazed Michael.

Worse than his physical injuries, there were the psychic attacks being inflicted on Michael. Unbeknownst to him, Lucifer was assaulting him with another of heaven's weapons. His agent, "The Prophet" wielded it. 'The Gauzien' separated the spirit from the body. It could do that in bits or the whole of a being. This allowed a skilled wielder manipulation of memory and abilities without the affected one's knowledge. There were symptoms of its use…consequence.

The way the Gauzien functioned , the way it took, was crippling Michael in a way that drained his energies and brought on confusion and could lead to unconsciousness. It had more horrible capabilities…lethal ones. The Prophet had used it to separate Michael's life from him. Michael had stopped Mallory's leader, Laurel from being the five-year sacrifice by taking her place. But he did not use empyrean steel in the sacrificial ceremony and so revived.

In retaliation, The Prophet used The Gauzien to draw out Michael's spirit from his body but Michael outsmarted the ploy to take his life. It had appeared to observers of his physical body that he was ill and unconscious then recovered. Michael had learned from the experience that Alex was of interest to whatever or whoever drove the power in Mallory. Because of the sacrifice of life demanded there, he knew it wasn't his Father's doing. He began to suspect it was Lucifer. A change in Alex's markings had confirmed his suspicion.

Any further action was delayed by Gabriel's madness driven decision to release The Darkness on Vega and his subsequent violent assault on Michael, with intent to kill , that resulted in Michael's current physical pain. Michael became dizzy as he tried to remember, tried to focus. Gabriel, seeing Michael struggling, dropped back. "Brother, shall we light somewhere for you to rest? You are no good to the boy if you arrive spent."

"I'm no good to him if we arrive too late, Gabriel. I cannot fail him. I cannot fail again." Gabriel thought Michael's use of 'again' referred to his not having saved Gabriel's adoptive son, David long centuries ago. Michael had been his guardian – a protector and facilitator of the boy's intended destiny. The boy had killed Goliath and all were in celebration of his bravery which halted the threat of an invasion.

The King, instead of rewarding the child, had unexpectedly flung the boy from the heights of the palace walls, fearing the threat to his own power the boy presented by the weight of his act. Michael could not react swiftly enough to save him. The loss of David had devastated them both…Gabriel for the loss of his beloved son, Michael for his failure to duty in his Father's service and also for his part in his brother's loss.

But here, Michael was recalling a more recent failure. He and Alex had come to terms with that failing of his in Vega during their encounter in New Delphi. Alex had been there and had been instrumental in Michael and Gabriel's capture by Julian, but the threat Julian presented, his army of eight balls and their threat to Vega, his creation of possessed, his threat to Alex, his hostility to Michael, overshadowed their betrayal of each other. Their bond survived it…cancelled each other's wrongful actions out. They were stronger together than ever.

Now, Lucifer wanted Michael not to interfere with his plot for Alex's capture. He needed him slowed down so he had The Prophet activate The Gauzien as Michael flew from Mallory giving him false memories, erasing his new found favor with Alex. Michael's guilt and artificially enhanced self-doubt interfered with his effectiveness even now. That combined with the actions of the weapon to take a new memory and the existing weakness from being beaten so badly by Gabriel with his Darkness enhanced physical strength, sapped his stamina. He had to land. He resisted. It was more a crash which Gabriel's quick intervention kept from being damaging to him.

Gabriel helped his staggering brother to lie on the ground. Michael objected, "No, Gabriel, I must fly" he said pushing his brother's helping hands from him. He tried to stand but fell to the flat of his back, breathless, still trying feebly to push his brother away. He used his wings to push himself up, but they crumpled in the effort.

"Michael, let me secure you here. Let me help you!" Gabriel was shredded emotionally by remorse at his part in causing this pain, this difficulty. He believed his beatings of Michael were the sole cause of Michael's incapacity and he suffered from that terribly. To Gabriel's mind, the whole damned world could end entirely as long as he could help his brother recover from this he had inflicted.

Michael pleaded with his brother, "Gabriel, you _must_ go to Alex! You have to save HIM…secure HIM! That is all that matters! Leave me, l …"

"I will not leave you! Not like this! Lie quietly or I will quiet you, brother. You expect the unreasonable." Gabriel countered.

Gabriel stooped over Michael and the half rumpled wings that spread to his brother's either side. Michael strained to unseat the parts of the wings that tucked beneath him and pinched him. Then he flinched at the unceremonious pluck Gabriel took at his nearest wing exposure. Gabriel narrowly avoided Michael's resulting gruff attempt to again push him away, but he had the feather he needed.

It was like tending a defiant child, Gabriel thought…remembering a petulance David once displayed when he was ill and needed ministering. But this was no child. It was the fury of his brother's nature, his drive to fight that he had to wrestle into abeyance. One loved dearest family and nurtured them despite such difficulty.

Gabriel set fire to the feather he'd taken from Michael and dabbed the ash on Michael's bruises and cuts. Michael expressed his discomfort when Gabriel dabbed too heavily on the most tender spots, once hissing an "ouch…followed by what was to be a call for Gabriel to 'stop' but just made it to "ssst!"

"Ahhh, be brave little one," said Gabriel in response, sounding for all the world like a loving father. He finished applying the healing balm. Then he rinsed his hands and brought his brother water from the spring fed pond they were near. He cupped the water in his hands and helped Michael drink.

While those were not all the needs that kept Michael inhibited, tending to him in this way was enough to restore him. Michael could see his brother's gentle concern and could react to it now. "You have a wise and good heart, brother, he said lovingly. " I have missed that of you." Gabriel chuckled with warmth remembering sweeter times. "I have missed that of myself, to be sure."

Michael sat up and propped against the tree next to him for support. The sounds of night in the deep forest surrounded them. The two ancient beings had shared many such moments. The richness of them was part of the root of their deep foundation of underlying love. They shared a brief quiet now, but it was full of brotherly devotion. Michael spoke first, "We should…

"Go, yes", Gabriel finished, rising to offer Michael a hand up.

"Don't wait for me. Fly to him." Michael prompted as he got to his feet.

Gabriel, hands on either side of his now standing brother's broad shoulders, considered his twin. Gabriel's arm length assessment was in appreciation of the huge breadth of his brother's responsibility and sense of honor and how he strove to his duty against all odds. How through his fierce drive and nature he could reason the most complex of dynamics and also show, express a great capacity to be loving. He found he could admire the balance of control it took to achieve that. "Yes, I will." Gabriel assured...promised his concerned sibling. He flew, committed to his brother's service, to the goal of saving Alex, top speed. A sonic boom was left in his wake. Michael's followed as he sped as quickly as he could manage.

Gabriel reached Vega slightly ahead of the determined Michael. To the angels observing the radar and then the camera images of their approach, it looked like Michael was chasing Gabriel. The dutiful subjects of Gabriel who now held the city sought to protect their General from the traitor who pursued him. The angel appropriated guns of Vega trained on Michael. They fired.

Gabriel screamed, "NOOO!" swooping, to block the streaming rounds of munitions from reaching the weakened Michael. Gabriel recalled an order he had left…a plan 'B'. Gabriel was struck by a bullet. It wounded! It was as he feared. Gabriel fell to the ground helplessly watching as his brother was shot from the sky. "Michael!" He yelled , as if trying with the force of his voice to stop the unfolding tragedy.

He heard the thud of more metal making contact with flesh. He heard his brother react to that and to the impact as he fell to earth not far from him. Thinking he had lost that which he had so recently just found…his treasured family… Gabriel slipped to unconsciousness, a grief ridden 'no' sighed into the night.


	17. Chapter 17

Salvation

Chapter 17 Returns

Michael was in a desperate way. He had been stricken 7 times by the invading bullets. Three to his right wing made it broken, useless. One had made its way to his outer left thigh, one through his left side just below his rib. One struck his left shoulder. All had grazed or gone clean through. As he lay in the dry grass, his blood, loosed by the poison of empyrean steel, seeped upon the brittle flora where he had crash landed… refreshing it…while draining him. But while his mind should have been dulled by the effects of the seventh bullet's path, it was , instead fired to life.

The seventh bullet had made its way along the left side of his head. The impact partially interrupted the influence of the Prophet's weapon. As Michael was being set upon now, being gathered by hostile hands toward a hostile purpose, his mind remembered kinder hands upon him in the caresses of a sweet passion. The touch he remembered roused him in his unconsciousness to heights of a fiery ecstasy. His utterances in reality and to the joy of those who transported him, were expressions of the pain they inflicted by their rough handling of the wounded archangel enemy.

They threw Michael onto the back of a transport. He rolled to strike the outside cab of the vehicle…hard. They laughed to see the insufferably perfect archangel 'peacock' so shoddily heaped onto the flatbed garbage transport they were using to move him. Others worked to gingerly gather their wounded leader. Gabriel had been stricken by two rounds. One grazed the right side of his head. The other went through his right chest ripping through his body and lodging at the base of his right wing. His wing, deprived of use of its powerful muscles by position of the bullet's path and lodging, had flagged, causing him to crash to earth. Hurriedly, he was gathered from where he had fallen.

Gabriel was placed in an ambulance which rushed off to take him to emergency care. "Michael…," Gabriel moaned wanting to say more in hopes of getting his brother the best of care. The attendant in the ambulance heard him. "Have no fear, Archangel, Michael will be given 'just' treatment." Just what treatment is what now worried Gabriel, deeply. His mind was baffled by his pain and it wandered. Now he thought of Lucifer and he mumbled, "While my brother lives there is danger …" The angel attending him said, "Do not worry, Gabriel, Duma will handle the matter." Gabriel slipped to unconsciousness and did not hear the words that followed. "Michael will soon not be a danger any longer."

Michael's mind was still holding him in a gentler place. Finally it showed him the face of his tender experience. As he felt her long hair brush up across his neck and cheek, he saw she, who with all of his being, he craved lips upon his. In his thoughts, he breathed her name aloud before she leaned to his wishes. ' Jilli-an'. In his language the name meant 'beloved one'. He felt she was, in every sense. Thought of her consumed him now. Even in his unconsciousness he called out to her with all of his heart, all of his being.

xxxx

The speeding Humvee shrieked to a spinning stop on the dark empty remnants of the desert road. Jillian gasped with the force of the sensation washing over her. She gripped the steering wheel of the vehicle as if it were her life-line. Her body tensed, pressed against the seat back and her head fell back. She felt in the throes of passion. Her body ached for touch. She breathed heavily an inward breath and sighed the name of the cause of the overwhelming sense in its release, "Michael!"

Jillian drew in a quick refreshing breath of renewed determination. The smile she wanted to wear wilted to grave concern. Her love lived, yes…but what gripped him to have kept him so absent; to still not be able to communicate with her fully. The vehicle could no longer serve her demands. She took what she needed most from the vehicle, stored it in her wing sheath, presented her splendid wings and flew with dimension bending speed to the source location of the sense she had felt.

The quick flight ended with Jillian in the scrub grass pocked ruins outside of Vega. There was no one there, but there was familiar trace. She saw then, the blood of her love. She inhaled a gasp. It stabbed at her heart to see so much there. She began to tremble with fury. If she acted on it, Vega would no longer stand. Stones and surrounding debris began to suspend into the air as her fury displaced gravity's effects. She saw this physical effect of her rage. She brought her urge to smite under control. It was difficult. It had been so long since such things were hers to command. The effect released its hold, allowing all to fall to earth again.

Jillian refocused her investigation. She caught sense of another presence. There was the blood of another, as well. Her sense of its composition indicated another archangel. Its similarity to her beloved's meant one of a close bond to him. That could only indicate one other. "Gabriel." Her thoughts raced. What had Gabriel done to Michael? She would find him and 'ask' none too nicely.

xxxx

Gabriel, lying face down atop a surgical table, hazily saw his surroundings and fell away to his body's physical demand and his remembered grief and remorse, but not before noticing his surroundings. The medical staff tending him with quiet scrutiny were a very different sight to those he saw outside this surgical theatre. Those others scurried every which way in frenzied intensity. Through the glass that separated that from this room, from him, he could see people and angels lying in various stages of brokenness. Blood was the décor of evidence.

It was a glimpse of Hell, Gabriel thought. As his wounds called him away to nothingness, his scrambled mind showed him Michael, draped across purest white stone, his body awash in blood, broken. His head hung slightly free of the stone. His wings and arms fell away to the openness at either side , still and useless, his great strength spent. As his life spilled forth, Gabriel saw Michael look into his eyes, heard him whisper, "Gabriel. Why?" Gabriel fell to unconsciousness, tormented, holding one thought: How could he undo this he had seen?

xxxx

Michael slowly opened his eyes. "Humnhuh" was the only sound he could make. He was in House Reisen, he noticed. Edward Reisen was staring at him with someone else's eyes. Michael blinked trying to focus better. He was vertical. Surely, that was something positive. He remembered why he was in Vega. "Where is Alex?" He found he could only mumble the words.

"I'd like to know that myself," said the Reisen conundrum. It was not Reisen's voice. Standing next to him was his daughter, Claire. She came toward Michael and struck him across his face, hard… harder than a human could ever strike. Michael barely heard her through his haziness and now ringing ears. "Traitor!" she spat at him. "You disgust me!" She drew a sword and set it to his throat. He could feel the empyrean steel burn where it touched his skin. The girl's anger burned, too. It was fury more than anger. He knew _that_ well. He was about to call her by the name he knew, but her eyes were not Claire's. She was a dyad! He began to form the question of her identity, "Who…

"You do not ask the questions here. Welcome to the New Order, _brother_ …however short your stay will be, _Archangel_." She used his titles…both 'brother' and 'Archangel' as if they were insults to the meaning of the words. The cadence of her voice was different, yet familiar. She drew the sword back preparing to strike a killing blow to his heart. She was not just furious, she was…rabid with rage.

'The Reisen' sped forward and stopped her. Wanting to defend himself, Michael found his hands unavailable. He was bound. His survey of the situation showed that his arms were bound by empyrean steel cuffs at the wrists which were used to hold him upright by empyrean chains reaching down from around and atop the huge columns at either side of the room. He was at the center of the shambles that remained of the familiar lovely room.

His own blood pooled at his feet. He knew that meant he might have been here for some time. His legs were bound together, wrapped with empyrean chain that started just at the knee. The chain split at his feet to be lashed to empyrean bolts at the floor on either side of him. The chains for his arms were situated in such a way and held taught enough to hold him standing upright, arms stretched outward and slightly upward, so that he was just suspended and only the tips of his boots touched the floor. He was vertical, but not of his own accord.

He assessed his situation further. He had several wounds. Gunshot wounds!? The bullets of the wall guns of Vega could not pierce him. How had these? "Empyrean jacketed rounds", 'The Reisen' said, answering his unspoken question… "made especially for you, by Gabriel's command, Michael. All of Vega's wall guns are supplied. We're ending this war. We're ending you."

Michael glared at the man giving him this news. He shook his head once then looked down before glaring again at "The Reisen". Michael might have been exasperated at being…once more… the subject of a death plot. Such things could test one's faith, but being tested to their limits was the life of an archangel. There was perpetual struggle to their duty. Their lives were a complex tapestry of intricate parring with their minds, bodies, souls and sword to serve Father's plan. Michael was prepared in every way for such trials. He was created to face them and had gifts to meet them. He would. He had to.

'The Reisen' introduced himself. "I am Duma, dyad, created by consideration of fellow dyad, Julien. I am here, joined with this human you know as Edward Reisen. Julien has been busy with The Returns. He is converting the citizens of Vega to dyad or at any rate, giving bodies to those of our kind who are without. Many of our brethren who were relegated to the nothing are now embodied."

Michael's brow furrowed questioningly at the unlikely idea of Julien working with Gabriel. Duma's pause also let thought of the meaning of Julien's activity settle as he walked to look out of the broken windows of the enormous former hotel's top floor. Then he turned to face Michael and said, "I am friend to 'Wey-an'. Do you recall him?"

Groggily, Michael gave account, "Yes. He was a servant of Lucifer. He tried to harm Father and was condemned to Oblivion for his crime. The only angel to have ever been so consigned. You were found complicit and sent to the Outer Sphere." Michael's recollection was vivid. He had carried out the sentences. He was the hand of his Father's wrath. He had wielded the weapon, The Tablet of Unmaking…The Stone, upon Wey-an. He had also taken Duma's body from him…all by his Father's command. It had been his duty.

Now, in this world without Father, his duty would be cause for vengeance against him. The pause Duma provided was not unserved. Michael knew many in the Outer Sphere had been sent there by his hand, deprived of their higher standing due to grave failings in their service to Father. These returned would likely seek him out to exact revenge. Compounded with the widely supported idea that he was a traitor to all of angel kind, he knew he was in a dangerous situation. He needed Gabriel's help to stop this. Michael demanded, "Where is my brother?"

"Gabriel is otherwise occupied, Michael." Duma did not reveal that the angel army had wounded its leader. Michael, sensing the lie of omission, knew something was not right. He was about to summon Gabriel. Duma realized Michael's intent just in time to call to the Claire dyad, who was closer, to stop him. He called out to direct her to distract Michael using her angelic name, "Uriel!"

Michael was stunned by the revelation. He refocused his attention without summoning Gabriel. "Uriel! Sister!?" Michael was at once in wonder and shock to have Uriel before him in any form. Then his face registered upset that she was without her archangel body…wingless …and then his face read of the disappointment and heartache that she had to be brought here as this… abomination.

His sibling only read the disappointment and saw it as disgust. "Don't judge me, you betrayer of family. You have no right! Your favored ones….these human vermin… acted with tools you worked to provide. They had the means and the heart to bomb Gabriel's aerie because of the years of your support and training. YOU did THIS!" Uriel yelled to his face as she indicated her new form.

Michael's pained expression at her accusation only enraged her more. She despised him all the more, because after creating her, Julien told her that Michael had been behind the aerie attack. He had said to her that Michael wanted her death to even the playing field. Julian told her how she could have Michael's body, to replace her possessed one if she weakened him, broke him. She was impatient for that. She wanted that now. She slashed her blade across Michael's chest before Duma could intervene.

Michael barely reacted to the new wound. A light exhalation and small retraction of his chest was all he used to address it. He was more involved in being devastated by the realization that he had lost his sister in a way more painful than the death he knew she had met. The madness of hatred had claimed her.

The archangels were a rare creation. There were few of them. No one understood them, truly. Their own gifts were such that it frequently kept them at odds without Father's guidance. Regardless, they could be unyielding and driven. The qualities of what they were…commanders, seats of angelic power and justice… made them appear cruel and arrogant. Often they had to be. They were heaven's generals. All they had was their duty to Father, their gifts…and one another…family.

Michael's most recent physical wound bled while his heart wept for his lost sister. The cut was not deep enough to be a threat to his life, but it left more trace of empyrean poison and that did weaken him. Uriel had served her purpose. All of his wounds bled as the poison did not allow coagulation. Life of every kind was spilling away or contaminated in this place. He thought it seemed, for all the world, like the Pit…Hell.

xxxx

Gabriel was now in a quiet place; a beautiful bedroom. It was the finest Vega had to offer; the Stratosphere. The soft light of a waning day danced through the gauzy filter of the golden, sheer drapery surrounding the opulently dressed bed. Angels quietly flew into and out of the open large windows bringing everything they thought Gabriel might want or need. A tray with the remnants of feather ash was next to the beautiful round bed. Gabriel , bare chested and covered from the waist down by the sateen silk and woven silk covers, dusted off the unused healing ash from his right chest and began to sit up. He was quickly returned to his prone position, reaching for his spinning head with a moan.

The bandage there slipped away under the agitation of his rubbing. It revealed a still ugly mar to his beautiful temple. A healer rushed over and tapped more ash to Gabriel's wound. The wound's remaining tear could be seen to heal quickly. Gabriel grimaced lightly and rallied himself to rise from his resting place. Standing bedside, he signaled to be dressed. Attendants began bringing his armor and clothing him.

"Where is my brother?" Gabriel asked. The company did not respond quickly enough. Seething, he punctuated every word of his demand, escalating his volume as he spoke each one: "Where . Is. My. Brother." A soldier angel, the new leader of the High Guard, Jessrial, flew in just then. "Archangel" , he addressed Gabriel, "We have possession of Vega." Before he could go on, Gabriel asked him, " And who had possession of Vega when I was laid to ground… wounded!?"

Jessrial quickly tried to make amends, "Archangel, let me explain. We saw you were being pursued by the traitor, Michael…"

Gabriel stopped him with a raised palm to ask again that which he most wanted to know, "Where is my brother?"

"Duma has him, Archangel. I believe he awaits your favor." Jessrial ended with bowed head. Jessrial concealed the secret of actual events well. Gabriel did not suspect. Jessrial, relieved to know his skillful act was a success, continued to attend Gabriel. Gabriel, annoyed not to have gotten a complete response, asked with exaggerated expectation, "Where?"

"The Great Room of House Reisen , Archangel. Shall I take you there?" Offered Jessrial.

"Now, please." Gabriel said, nearing explosive aggravation.

No one had noticed the arrival of the unknown individual who now stepped aside to avoid the approach of Gabriel and Jessrial. She was commanding, for a human, and wore a distinctive outfit. Gabriel thought he recognized it, but was in too great a hurry to get to his brother to suss it out. Gabriel and Jessrial flew off into the young nighttime.

Jillian quickly slipped into the elevator and pressed the 'down' button. She was annoyed by the musak and starred menacingly at the speaker from which the sounds emanated. Jillian exited the moving elevator via the maintenance hatch and flew, unseen, to the location Gabriel went, leaving the elevator to descend quietly unoccupied. Particulates from the vaporized musak speaker glinted their last as they wafted briefly, then dissipated.

xxxx

"This must not be a personal vendetta, Uriel," Duma said, releasing the archangel dyad when she indicated acquiescence to reason. "Michael is traitor to us all," he reminded her. Duma turned to address the High Guard in the room, "Take Michael to the Plaza. We will render judgement upon him for all to witness, as Gabriel wished."

Three High Guard angels flew to positions to secure Michael. As Michael's chains were loosed from the floor and columns, the High Guard expected a battle, but using the length of the chain to stay at bay, they thought they could handle whatever came. The weakened, wounded and in shock archangel had no strength for it. Blood loss, the empyrean poison, the lingering effects of The Prophet wielding the Gauzien, were all working against him. He was at the mercy of those who now held him and they would offer none.

As the High Guard loosed his chains, Michael slumped onto one knee with a pained groan. His head was dropped and his shackled and chained right arm propped on his right leg. His right hand and wrist was draping beyond his knee to keep the metal of the cuff and the bulky chain from his good leg. He leaned to his right to ease the pain along his wounded and unsupportive left leg, and his throbbing left side, shoulder and head. Pleased and emboldened by his collapse, the higher angels gathered him gruffly.

They flew him through the broken windows of the room to the appointed location where throngs of the possessed and higher angels had gathered for the announcement and celebration of their victory over Vega. When they saw the High Guard delivering their greatest enemy, loud cheers rose up from the crowds. The High Guard secured Michael in the same fashion he'd been held at House Reisen.

While Michael was being secured in the Plaza , a figure entered the Great Room of House Reisen to address Duma and Uriel. Uriel's jaw dropped when she recognized the one entering. Duma had been expecting the visitor and smiling said, "Welcome, my Lord. We have much to discuss and much to offer you, Uriel."

Shortly, the dyad, Duma and the Archangel dyad, Uriel arrived in the Plaza where Michael was held and the crowds awaited. They took up position at a podium which had been situated to conduct the occupation ceremony. Duma nodded to the High Guard to continue. "Present you wings, Archangel." The High Guard commander demanded of Michael.

Michael flashed of hope in their mistake to ask this of him. With the intent of using his wings to fight his way free, he unfurled his weapons. The unwounded wing presented with a flourish and the angry snap of his intent. His right wing hung by his side. He had not realized one wing would be useless. He registered the pain he felt first then distressed realization flashed across his face, quickly substituted by his noble resolve to face this as best he could.

Duma, as leader of the invasion, took the lead at the podium. Uriel smiled at him in support of the approaching undertaking. She looked as though she had swallowed the proverbial canary. "My brothers and sisters. We are victorious!" Wild cheers and applause erupted. He quieted them. " We have come to the end of our long struggle. By authority of our General, Gabriel, who is injured and recovering well from our battle, I offer you this prize…our greatest enemy… the traitor of his family, of his kind, of Father's will, the Archangel Michael." Wild cheers and booing erupted.

Duma continued when he had calmed them. " We will serve justice upon him. For his multitude of traitorous crimes, he will pay the ultimate price." Two additional chains were drug toward Michael. Hooks were at the terminus. They were put to service piercing the heavy upper muscles of his wings and pulling the wings so taught as to suspend him from them rather than his arms. The chains about his legs jangled as he was raised a foot and a half higher off of the ground. He had not reacted to the hooks being placed through his wings by more than the narrowing of his eyes, but compounding that with his weakening body and the pain of his wounded wing being stretched to its limits, he did react.

Michael dropped his head to conceal the grimace on his face and exhaled sharply but recovered. His jaw clenched, he faced the angry angelics cheering at the prospect of his suffering and imminent demise. His own swords were brought out on a large red velvet pillow. Each of two High Guard took one and situated themselves, ceremoniously, behind Michael and at the point of either strained wing. The 'ceremony' seemed planned but somewhat chaotically rushed. Something was not as these would have everyone believe.

xxxx

Jessriel escorted Gabriel through the windows into the vacant Great Room of House Reisen. After quick assessment, Gabriel, seeing his brother's blood upon the floor wheeled toward Jessriel. "What are you playing at? You will tell me what has happened to Michael. Jillian stood on the ledge listening as Gabriel undertook to extract the information he required from the now screaming Jessriel.

Jessriel was stronger than Gabriel expected. He had somehow been fortified and resisted the powerful archangel's relentless assault. Finally, Gabriel found his way into Jessriel's mind and began to get pieces of the plot. When he could glean no more, without having laid a hand on the other angel, Gabriel crushed the life out of him for his deceit. All Jessriel had revealed was there was a plan to kill Michael underway and that he served one greater than Gabriel. Gabriel considered his next move. He must be quick. He must be right.

xxxx

Michael's mind had begun reeling. Odd memories were crashing in on him or were they imaginings? What was happening? He became lost in the memory of a past ceremonial execution. No not a memory, he was imagining… no…he was seeing what was to come. He could feel it all. He was there. He both experienced it and watched. The High Guard representatives would mutilate his wings. Each angelic soldier inflicting two slashes symbolizing his judgement and punishment. These would sever all flight feathers which would be distributed to all present as witness.

The High Guard would then assume positions before him. Shoulder to shoulder they would stand. Their swordless hands would cross their chests and they would grip each other's wrists as sign of a unified judgment at hand. They would then, simultaneously, thrust his own swords, instruments of his past judgments (memories of these began flashing through his mind) , into the heart these gathered judged to have betrayed them all.

Michael, shaken by a sense of disorientation and the too real images and sensations of his impending death, was drawn from his mental play of the events underway by reality's progress. He drew in a slow deep breath to center himself. Duma was addressing him, "Do you have a last statement before your execution, Archangel Michael, judged to be traitor?" Michael remained silent. To have spoken would have been to admit he accepted their judgement. They certainly had a right to feel as they did, but, in this cause, it was no one's right to judge him or punish him, save Father.

The crowd quieted. There was utter silence. No words would initiate this act. No words would invade this unprecedented moment. An archangel was to be punished and put to death by will and order of other than God.

Michael's senses were heightened by this threat to his life. He could hear and see everything so sharply it was almost painful. He saw someone he recognized. It was the grinning face of The Prophet. Next to The Prophet stood Julian, who was giddy with the proceedings. Odd, Michael thought. Julian nor the Prophet would be at a Gabriel sanctioned ceremony…or would they? Michael could not recall. He looked away from them and slightly downward as he struggled to place the pieces of this puzzle.

Then Michael looked up at The Prophet again. Michael saw that The Prophet held the Gauzien. _**That**_ was how he had 'seen' the future of these proceedings! The Prophet abused the Gauzien's power to show a future. Michael was thinking of how this could affect things… if he had seen something of that future that could help now. He had to think quickly. Such a use of the Gauzien would cause all of his mind to collapse on itself minutes after the Gauzien was disengaged. Apparently he did not have long to live by several avenues of attack.

While Michael watched him, The Prophet turned the key ending the Gauzien's influence on Michael. Michael was nearly rendered unconscious from the force of the release of his memories. He couldn't place what was memory and what was imagining yet. In minutes it wouldn't matter. In this muddled state, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something he knew but had so long forgotten. He heard a familiar whisper, but before he could define any of it, there was a commotion.

Bursting from the service tunnel to the subterranean shop levels beneath the former casino, came Alex and he led an army. Flying at point was a splendidly winged Noma. With hopeful pride, Michael whispered the name of his charge, "Alex!" It only took a moment for Michael to realize the danger to Alex and he strained to break free to go to him…to protect him. The two High Guard set to execute Michael flew off to attack Noma. Michael watched as she slayed them with stunning efficiency.

Michael felt grave concern at his lieutenant's display of great power and the presence of her new wings. Noma was formidable in battle but to so neatly and quickly dispatch High Guard was not customary. And what of her new wings?! She had sacrificed her own wings rescuing Alex from an attempt by Julian to kill him. Only Father could create wings… Then he recognized the whisper, the thing familiar he had glimpsed at the corner of his eye. He strained at his bonds as he leaned into the recognition and spoke the name he knew had authored this horror. "Lucifer!" An evil laugh rose high above the cacophony of battle.

Furious he could not undo this madness, could not be in the fray, Michael tugged at his shackles expressing his frustration between his clenched teeth, "Ahhhh!" It had not gone unheard. From behind him a voice spoke. "Easy brother, I will free your bonds." The shimmering source of that comfort flew into Michael's view. "Raphael! How have you come to be here?" Michael asked, grateful it was so. Raphael wrapped one arm around his brother raised him to ease the chains and quickly freed the hook from Michael's left wing. Michael winced at the pressure of Raphael's arm around his wounded waist and at the extraction of the hook from his wing but he bore it well.

Raphael lowered him stepped to his other side, lifted him again and removed the hook from the wounded right wing. Michael experienced great pain as the wounded wing was set free. "Unh! Ah!" He groaned as he collapsed. He hung by his arms breathing heavily. Raphael gave him time to cope while he unlocked the chains binding his legs and he comforted his brother, "Just a moment more, Michael". Then, with a unique key, Raphael unlocked the wrist shackles releasing first one arm, then the other. Raphael held his brother upright, reassuring his struggling sibling, " I've got you." Michael fell into Raphael , the weight of Michael's head fell back. As he held Michael, Raphael shimmered to female form, inhaled deeply in concentration and bathing them both in the light of her energy, healed Michael of his wounds. Eased of his pain and weakness, Michael found his footing, then put his hands on Raphael's shoulders and said, "Thank you, Raphael. You're being here was a gift."

"You are well, then?" Raphael asked. Michael nodded appreciatively and dropped his arms demonstrating he could stand on his own. Raphael then recounted how she came to be in this place. "Lucifer summoned me several days ago to gain my support for his newest plot, but I bored of his banter and left before he finished his entreaty. I knew he was going to advance some major havoc in Father's absence and thought you might need help…eventually… so I busied myself as I waited for him to show his hand."

The freed and healed Michael smiled. Then to Raphael's surprise, Michael embraced his splendid sibling who had shimmered to his male appearance. Raphael did not quite know how to react and did not return the embrace, but continued to speak, "I am not here alone." Raphael, moved by the affection of his sibling in spite of himself, shimmered back to a female self. Michael released Raphael who finished her dissertation, " I have brought the armies of Helena and the rabble of the wastelands to fight for The Chosen One."

Approvingly, Michael said, "He'll need them." Helicopters roared across the sky above them toward landings and emptied their human soldier passengers led by Arika . A large airplane flew overhead, from which descended para-wing suited warrior men and women led by Dianna. They fought the angels in flight as they coasted into Vega. All of those Raphael had led here rallied to fight the invaders of Vega.

In the meantime, Alex had fought his way to Michael. Raphael and Michael stood seriously as Alex made a final kill before settling in front of Michael. Then with the slightest glint in his eye, Michael said to Alex what he had often told Michael in the past, "You're late." Alex nodded the truth of that looking at Michael's tattered and bloodied state. Not able to contain the deep concern and caring between them, Alex reached for Michael. The one loved as a son and his guardian, loved as a father, embraced.

Raphael looked on knowingly. So _**this**_ was what had made the typically stoic Michael offer their hug. The shadow of a smile flashed Raphael's approval. Then while the two, The Chosen and his Guardian, spoke of things that didn't concern her, she regarded Michael with a grave seriousness and understanding of what was now in the balance. Yes there was The Chosen, this dominion, the ongoing battle, but she worried over Michael and what she had felt from him when she healed him.

Raphael had also had to heal Michael's mind from the Gauzien's consequences. She had felt the havoc it had left of his recollections. She would have to watch Michael closely as his memories began to gradually filter through to their truth again. Her focus was reset just then, as there was another pressing matter at hand. Alex turned from his and Michael's conversation to slay an eight-ball. More were coming.

With great lusty fervor Raphael stepped back and held her sword aloft and shouted her intent, "Battle!" Michael nodded adding with brotherly snideness, "I wonder that you remember the skills at all." Raphael rolled her eyes, "I recall enough to best you, brother." Naturally, she had exaggerated her skill, but being an archangel, she was certainly formidable. Raphael shimmered to nearly essence and then shimmered to be presented as his male self. Michael's expression registered his vaguely amused doubt of Raphael's boast.

Alex had witnessed Raphael's transformation and shaking his head whispered of Michael, "How do you deal with that?" Michael looked confused and said flatly, "I …don't. Raphael does. He alters form to match from wince he draws his inner strength." Michael finished without looking away from the approaching threat by flatly asking as a question what he knew as a statement of truth, " Is he not magnificent?" Alex considered the miraculous shimmering being, "Yes," he said, frankly.

Raphael flashed to female as Alex watched in amazement. She smiled radiantly at him making Alex uneasy and so he broke away to face the field of battle. As they all turned to face the Great Battle under way Raphael shimmered to male just as the eight-ball onslaught reached them. Set with determined resolve, they did do battle.

The sky over Vega began to darken with angels streaming into the fight. With his customary artistry, Michael, joined by Raphael, opened a path for Alex to reach his army and Noma. The two archangels executed tandem battle techniques swirling, dipping, diving and flying, wielding one another as weapons. When they arrived at the army's head, Noma was there. Michael accused more than marveled, "Noma, your wings, how?" Noma didn't respond but executed a spinning swoop of her great white wings to annihilate a small squad of attacking eight balls.

Alex finished his conflict by beheading the angel he was fighting. "It's a long story", he said to Michael of Noma's wings, "I'll tell you when things calm a bit." Alex and Michael turned back to back then to engage the enemy in moves long years of practice had made seem effortless for them. Noma and Raphael fought together overhead meeting the winged. Raphael shimmered to female and the two fought ferociously in a tandem that looked more like aerial ballet than fighting, but they were lethal, none the less. Every flip and spin and sweep laid waste.

Suddenly, a great bugling sound pierced the ears of everyone on the field of battle, causing the fighting to pause. Everyone in flight landed. The Herald was caused by Gabriel. "Stooop!" Gabriel ordered as he flew over the halted savagery. "You do not act by my command! I have made truce with my brother, Michael. I support The Chosen One. I have seen the good of him. I call on you to cease this battle and be at peace!" said the hovering archangel.

Gabriel held stationary above so all could see him. He noticed , then settled on a high repair work scaffolding surrounding and over reaching a great pillar on which sat an angel statue in the midst of the great pool in front of the Plaza. Duma rose to him on new and splendid white wings. Gabriel looked on the wings with surprise as Duma spoke, "No, we do not fight on your order, Gabriel. We fight in the name of another. One who offers many rewards," Duma said as he indicated his wings.

A white- winged Uriel took up by Duma's side. "Hello brother, she said sweetly." Gabriel registered his shock, "Uri.." He did not finish her name as she was joined by his torturer, the now also winged, Julian. Gabriel stood, speechless, glaring. Then Noma left Alex's side to take wing. Alex called to his companion, his friend, his love, "No! Noma, you can't!"

"I'm sorry, Alex. It was my job to get you here… for this battle… so that I could be awarded new wings ," Noma said shamefully, tearfully. Then she added sorrowfully, "Who could say no to wings?" Alex stared up at her with the pained hurt of betrayal. From behind him, Michael placed a hand of support, comfort and restraint on Alex's shoulder, as he had begun to rush toward the duplicitous, Noma.

Alex held his place by Michael's gentle act and his subsequent advice, "Let her go, Alex." Michael looked up at his former lieutenant with great disappointment, hurt of his own and anger at her for breaking her solemn vow of protection this way. She had sworn "her life for Alex…always." All it took was the loss of wings. He had suspected she would falter. He was not glad to be right.

From the place Michael had previously sensed a familiar presence, heard a whisper of something, his long absent brother, Lucifer then took flight. As he rose to sky, he appeared beautiful and as bright as a star rising in the darkness to take his due as Duma announced, "We serve the Bringer of Light, Father's First, The Morning Star." Gabriel now faced his luminous brother.

Michael and Raphael quickly flew to either side of Gabriel to support him with a united front. In the uncertain dynamic of the circumstances, Raphael repeatedly shimmered from essence to each of his other forms, his twinkling effect almost out shining Lucifer's radiant appearance. Raphael finally settled as male.

Another group of humans entered the Plaza, led by David Whele. When he stopped, he unfurled his wonderful white wings. He announced to his fellow citizens of Vega and of Helena. "Lucifer will offer wings to any human who serves him and also, whatever is your greatest desire will be yours." David held out his arm as invitation to someone behind him. His recently deceased son, William, stepped from the ranks smiling at his father, to stand by David's side. "Lucifer restored my son to me. Let him honor your wishes. Join him!" David entreated, exuding his best evangelical appeal.

Lucifer could create many things, he could heal but he had never been able to heal death. With his Mallory funded soul- powered strength, he could now heal the recently deceased. He had done so with Claire because hers was the body Uriel wanted. He told her so when he gifted her with wings just moments ago, securing her loyalty.

To bring David Whele into his fold, he had brought William back to life. It was extraordinary and compelling evidence of his right to godhood. Lucifer had everyone's attention. "You cannot defeat me, you three alone." Lucifer said, grinning with sinister confidence at his younger siblings. Stand down. Serve me…your new God… or perish.

"We are not alone, Lucifer…we three. We are joined by Father's Chosen One," said Michael, defiantly. Lucifer scoffed, "And you believe that _ **human**_ can turn the tide? How simple you are, Michael…all of you are. You've spent 25 years squabbling over, waiting on and serving a tiny boy and his scribbles. You have no weapons… at all."

Lucifer turned from his siblings to face the city below and said in a voice that all of creation in this dominion could hear and understand. The word scraped the air like a gravely growl, boomed like thunder and quaked the earth with its resonance: "Choose."

Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Alex exchanged looks of realization at what had just happened. "So brother, it is for this, not mere havoc, not the purposes of the Pit, but for dominion here that you return?" Michael said. "Yes," Lucifer admitted smugly. "You are ill equipped to stop me, my _**family**_ ," he spat the word at them. "My followers are not alone. I am here. Your God is not here. You are alone."

From the back of the Plaza courtyard arose a splendid form like nothing ever seen before, luminous, shimmering, golden shading purple at its depth, with massive yet graceful golden wings. The form of her body was barely discernable, but was visible. The archangels beheld the thing unknown with awe. It addressed Lucifer, "They will not be alone to face you, Lucifer…the Three and the Chosen. I have come forth, born of your Father from a time before you, and in His name, to lend aid."

"Jilli-an!?" Michael blurted the name and lit up with a confused surprise and wonder at the sight of his passionate imagining come to life. A tear fell born from his intense experience of emotion as he breathed his next words, "I thought you a dream!" Jillian could feel Michael's emotion and how he struggled with his memories rushing in to make sense of what was real and what was planted in his mind.

Raphael, aware of the possibility of Michael experiencing an emotional overload if his memories tried to fall into place too quickly, noticed Michael's struggle, saw his slight trembling. Raphael shimmered to feminine as he reached to squeeze Michael's arm. Gabriel's position concealed the compassionate action. Raphael shimmered back to male. Using long hair to conceal his communication, Raphael whispered to Michael, "Brace, brother".

Jillian wanted to hold Michael. She did in her mind. She sent him her memories of them to help him make sense of his own. Michael saw all of it in his mind's eye, felt it all. The force of it buckled his knees. With one hand, Raphael was actually holding Michael up for the moment it all rushed in on him. Once Michael had possession of it all, the knowledge settled him. He regained his footing and his strength. He risked a fleeting smile. Raphael felt Michael's body relax and released his arm as he shimmered female.

Michael's focus then returned to the seriousness of the moment, but not before he sent Jillian his message. One word, filled with every nuance of its meaning and his intents: "Beloved." Jillian felt the need to cry for joy at his return to her mind's conversation, to the very rhythm of her heart… and for her overwhelming want of him.

Before their silent exchanges could read to those present, before either of them revealed something that might put their association and their child at risk, Jillian resumed her vocal conversation. "Thank Lucifer for your deception, Archangel." She couldn't say his name. It would have telegraphed what was in her heart to everyone there. Jillian continued, " I have discovered, during my time in Vega, that he possesses the Weapons of Heaven and has been employing them with disregard for all they were intended to protect and serve."

Michael mentally sent Jillian what he knew of Lucifer's activity. It confirmed her findings. Jillian continued her revelation to those present. "We should know what it is we face. I shall name it." Lucifer grinned from ear to ear and shimmered to all of his hideous forms as Jillian said the word in their own angelic language.

The three archangel siblings looked at one another aghast. It was worse than they thought. Lucifer didn't just want vengeance on them, didn't just want dominion here by his godhood. He didn't want simply to perpetuate the angel/human conflict. As the grinning Lucifer shimmered back to his beautiful form, Michael spoke the word for benefit of Alex and mankind, "Armageddon."

**** Author's note: I'm so pleased that so many of you, from all over the world, are taking this meander through Dominion's rich fantasy world with 'Salvation'. I want nothing more than for Dominion's creator and cast to finish his story, his vision of this amazing journey; preferably in multiple seasons of discoveries! Meanwhile, I contribute one version of what it whispered to me. I hope it is exciting for you to read. ****


	18. Chapter 18

Salvation

Chapter 18

Power of Choice

The revelation that choice was in the balance took the heat of battle from the hearts of mankind and Higher Angel. It left the lower angels in confusion. With the uncertainty of alliance, of the choice to be made, the factions retired from the field of battle. Everyone would consider a side on which to ally. Their choice: a dominion in service of an absent Father as God… or a present fallen- but- seemingly- benevolent –archangel- master as god.

Some Higher Angels already did serve Lucifer. That others would choose to serve him was certain. Lower angels were not given to choice. They served their Father and obeyed the Archangels and Higher Angels. Without guidance, they, the disembodied Lower Angels and the disembodied Higher Angels who had possessed humans tended to serve whomever or whatever could provide them with direction or advantages. For them and those who remained in the ether, Lucifer offered bodies… with wings. Who would say no to that?

Archangels were accustomed to choice. When they used their power of choice to go against Father's wishes, it was still with intent to serve Father's needs, his plan. They had all felt the burden of making choices without Father's presence...or the freedom from it. In this New Order, unassisted by their Father's guidance, all angels would have to choose, by necessity, without consideration of Father.

Lucifer was the only Archangel to choose not to serve Father; not to follow Father's Plan. His way offered unfettered freedom from Father's influence. Would there be Archangels who would choose that? Might there be Archangels who would choose their own godhood…like Lucifer? If so, this could be a multi-front conflict.

Humanity was born with choice. They wielded it casually. How they would choose was anyone's guess. Many had lost hope of Father's love, lost faith in his plan, but now they knew there was a Savior, Alex. The Archangel Michael had been truthful. Someone _**was**_ sent to help them in their greatest hour of need. There really was someone with uncommon, supernatural power…and Alex was someone they could trust, someone human. That would inspire some to ally for Father's dominion, how many…only time would tell.

xxxx

Humanity always had free choice. They *HAD* to serve no one and no thing. They often took that choice for granted in many ways and as with any 'free' thing, they eventually abused it. They had choice from the outset of their creation…their birth right carried through to them …even when they were bound in their bodies to walk the Eden as parental reprimand. Eventually, even for those with free choice, there are consequences for being unconscionably irresponsible with choice…

Father and Mother had never shared any knowledge of their origins even with their own children. That was their choice. Their first telling of creation to their children began with their awakening as two in a great nothing. They were not the same, but complements of one another. Where one was lacking, the other had strength. Their differences eventually and naturally caused conflict. But of their gifts, was born creation. Of their undeniable love, was born their children, humanity.

Father and Mother lived in the heavens. They created all of its dimensionalities and characteristics and functionalities. They tinkered with their worlds. They formed them to their needs, to their delight, to their wonder. As parents who cared about their children and what was to be theirs, they chose to also be care-takers, care-givers, teachers. They were loving, thoughtful creators, parents and stewards of their dominions. They taught their children by example and by guidance.

Existence was full and complex and set into a perpetual self -evolving if left unattended. But it could be sculpted, crafted, advanced by knowledgeable coaxing. All of their children chose to become all they could be. They acquired knowledge and enhanced their abilities and strove toward wisdom to complement their eventual godhood. Most wanted to build on what was; to advance that of creation which existed. They sought to gently guide processes to fruition. Jilli-an practiced this. But a second school of thought arose and it enticed.

As children of the Almighties, this second school of thought had come to expect the right of godhood without having learned the intricacies of that exalted responsibility. Their power and the bounty of their inheritance had caused some to become impatient for that. Further, they did not want to serve creation, they wanted to create. They observed that conflict could make change…could move forces to create or rather to re-create.

They thought that perhaps conflict of creation…re-creation… was necessary to evolve it into a better, stronger form and were fascinated to know what it would become if it changed against its current state. It gleaned faster results to be aggressive with creation and that fact fed their impatience, their boredom and their misguided belief that they knew better how to create than Father and Mother.

The impatient, bored ones would damage something of creation purposefully. They would topple order, create chaos and watch how it reacted…how or if it recovered. A great deal of beauty and potential was lost to this practice. Much of the formation of the heavens was a violent thing by its nature. To their Father's great distress, and forcing the hand of his action… the draw to that kind of endeavor was intoxicating and corrupting because… some craved the power, chose to honor the violence of creative force rather than the creation itself.

Having free choice, eventually everyone had tried the re-creation method. Most found it ill- considered. But the practice persisted. Jilli-an was her parents' dearest child, their first. She was least corrupt by her great power, but having been indulged, and having an insatiable curiosity, she did fall short of principles and stray to explore the unsavory darker arts of her godly skills.

Even she, so honored by her parents, and honoring of her parents, so faithful in her pursuit of true wisdom… not mere knowledge… and a seat of just and clear purpose …even she failed their expectation and engaged in re-creation rather than advancing creation. She tried it but found that she was offended by the practice. She grieved the loss of the creation that the re-creation subverted.

Her Mother wanted her children not to be punished for exercising "free choice". When Father refused, Mother pled for at least Jilli-an and those who had discontinued the practice to be spared, but Father did not yield. All who had engaged in re-creation would pay the price. The practice was heretofore forbidden. Angered by Father's unwillingness to be lenient, Mother chose to depart beyond The Veil…leaving Father alone in the heavens.

Their Father had lost his patience, but not his love for his children. In his compassion, rather than smite them, He let them begin again. He bound their power and their memories, but they retained choice. He renewed them as innocent children, to learn humility, compassion and service to others and the value of self -discipline…of obedience …of adherence to principles…how to acquire knowledge without destruction, how to garner wisdom, how to honor creation , how to work in concert with it, how to manage their gifts, how to contentiously wield their power and dignify their free choice.

He hoped they would never redevelop despicable traits, never again choose destructive power. He chose his favorite world for them, one in which they could thrive. He cast his children….all of them… into Eden's bounty, beauty and simplicity. Eden was part of his first creation, and He thought it the better of his first. He gave them his best.

Then He set about the creation of his angels. He was dubious about the gift of choice so He metered it. Angels had choice as it pertained to their duty… the greater their duty, the greater their gift of choice. He gave them great knowledge and powers. He made them extraordinary to serve the heavenly requirements of creation and to ease his loneliness. He hoped to appease his mate with the angels, but she was resolved not to return until her children were unbound. He eventually initiated his angels as guardians, teachers, liaisons and keepers of his justice for the errant children on Eden's Earth.

Father commanded of his angels to only teach humanity what He told them. They were not to share their great knowledge openly. He wished that mankind remain innocent of certain knowledge until He gave it to them…until they were ready. He never told his angels mankind's origins. He never told them of his mate. He hid his sadness from them by the omission. That was his choice. He made a grand plan, complete with contingencies, set it into motion and directed his made children, his angels, to serve him by it. He watched as his born children re-matured. He waited for his beloved's return. He deeply loved them all… and creation.

xxxx

Michael was not mindful of his skill, as he acted instinctually…driven to his need, his desire's satisfaction, divorced of all reason. His lovemaking was unbridled. He commanded, demanded. He was a ravenous tempest, a force of nature. With his mouth, his hands upon her, his body enveloping her, delving to her depths, Michael played the hunger of Jillian's body like a fine instrument as he fed his own.

He required all of Jillian to be his and he swept her up…into him. He took what was his. Every inch, everything of her, was his. And wanting her so, it took all of him to take her… giving himself over, completely releasing his need for her…baring his soul…even as he took… and he did take…he consumed her.

Jillian was a thing she had never been…prey… to passion of one her equal. She surrendered to him, willing him to do as he willed with her. It was an act, a choice, born of utter trust. It was a completeness of giving to match the completeness of his taking. She gave all to the point of receiving…he took to the point of giving all…completeness. His truth, his honesty, his naked soul earned that… It was a mutual gift. There would be no boundaries between them.

Only the truth of absolutes…absolute love…honesty in its fullest openness… their unconstrained fulfillment of one another's desire… offered what they were to one another. It allowed this fire to burn without destruction. They were as a creation, a savage one, but an act of creation… pulling at one another, lashing and flashing in the licking fires of necessity to become …each the other… one entity. Michael brought her into his vortex of passion, both of them rising again and again to breathless climax together. Her body's craving kept his wanting more, ever, more.

His muscles rippled with the power of his striving. He pulled her to him with his hands, his arms , his wings, thrusting as he bit at her throat, her breasts, her lips and with his tongue he traced her body, hungrily kissing. No part of her was left unattended, unclaimed by him. Michael did not relent in his pursuit of her pleasure, of his pleasure in her. She did not want any of herself to be apart from him. As she breathed, even his scent invaded her and intoxicated her.

Jillian became lost in him…as he was in her. Even their perspiration held them too far apart. Even that, Michael's body took…the capillary action of his sweat consumed Jillian's- reaching out latching onto her body's attempt to cool the heat of passions- absorbing her…that much oneness…they needed it…craved it…shared the want of it.

He ravished her. She yielded, ebbing and flowing for him, with him, and as she sought the eye of his storm, he found hers. He sought to take her core, her essence to him. She withheld, knowing he needed that, forcing him to take, no… allowing him… this warrior, this embodiment of fury, to flex his need to conquer. His essence fired and shimmered at the challenge to his passion's advance. He was magnificent, primal. His essence state, having fired, licked at her body like a thousand tongues. It was at once heat and cold. She was embraced in something only this archangel could access, it lived only at his core, angelfire.

The resonance of him, the deep rumbling sound of his frequency became a vibration. The quaver danced on her skin and now she could hear it, as well. It was beautiful, complex, hypnotic. Its intensity grew so that now it penetrated, even her powerful body. She was unaware that she broadcast her own resonance to him, driving him in his desire for her. Their mutual song arrived in waves causing a pleasure unattainable by any other encounter but this.

Michael's angelfire, combined with his resonance, caressed Jillian's entirety, within and without. Michael left nothing of her but the ecstasy of sensation. She was enraptured… wanted nothing, needed nothing but this…him… the blazing passions raging at his core. Now, she could _**see**_ them all…and more.

Something was there that fascinated. Something drew her into him more deeply. Something was there she had only glimpsed, something beyond extraordinary. There was something within the Light at his core of being. She could not reach there, but she wanted….she wanted to be one with all she found ….all that was Michael. She chose to be …taken. She found the eye of his storm and entered there.

In this ultimate climax, passion's sensation could not be physically endured any longer. They flashed to their source of being…their essences fused…they were as a young star, a new life force, realized… a fiery blending of life at its purest. Their nebulae swirled and roiled together… _they_ ….were together... completely one…and the earth beneath them quaked to hold their power of being… and all of nature around them stilled in an awed respect of their… creation.

Jillian awoke with the slightest sparkle of the new dawn amidst the dishevelment of what little remained of their sumptuous bedding linens…their having been mostly shredded… or vaporized. She stirred little. Barely turning her head, she could see out of the side window…one made for this purpose…she could see Adonis and Diamond. They had wandered to the pasture's center and settled on the ground under the now waning night sky. Diamond still slept, curled in a tight crescent nestled into the bent knees of Adonis' front legs.

The stallion was awake and still lounging in his contentment with his world. Jillian watched him lazily pluck at the grass as he lay peacefully with his wolf friend. She loved the beauty and peace of this place and she loved all of its inhabitants. Mindlessly, she picked a tickling and errant iridescent black feather from her hair and brushed it across her lips.

The sensation caused her to replay another touch it remembered to her. She lay revealing in a memory of the feather's former owner's occupations there. She drew the feather down her neck allowing her body to recall the tracings of hungry lips and tongue and teeth and …angelfire. She drew the feather along her breast. She rested it across her nipple and paused.

She drew in a deep serious breath. She was weighted briefly by awe at her memory of what she shared with her mate. He lay before her now, exposed to the light of this new day, his magnificent wings outlining his naked form. The light and its radiance on his skin and the iridescence it released in his feathers caused her to remember a cathedral she had visited in Toledo, Spain. It had a domed chamber of alabaster as its sanctuary. It was populated with exquisite life-sized alabaster statuary. Angels and cherubs rose to its topmost along alabaster walls and free standing in a winged perfect train of flight toward the heavens.

When the sun entered the round opening at the top of the dome just so, the alabaster works…all of them… the dome, the statues, the walls illuminated. Their crystalline inner structures fired the light back on itself, being both lighted and lighting at once. It was breathtakingly beautiful…an unmistakable evidence of the divine in all of humanity. It paled miserably to what lay before her.

Michael was a perfect creation. Even his imperfections…were perfect. They were designed to accentuate and endear his perfection. It worked. She studied him with wonder, letting her eyes drink in his masculine beauty. Just…the _way_ he breathed… stirred her to her foundations. She watched the concert of motion that was his taking breath.

She realized then that she had forgotten to breathe herself, so entranced was she. "Ahhh", she sighed the exhale of her restorative breath ever so softly, quietly and completely happy in this moment of fulfilled, peaceful bliss. If ever there was a moment she wished could be frozen in time, this was it.

They were at home, figuratively with and through one another and literally. They had flown to their home outside of Helena. Without saying a word, with single minded intent, they had flown directly to the bedroom and fallen together in a complete unfettered sharing. They had this precious time to reunite.

Everyone had required rest from the Great Battle of Vega. And everyone needed time to choose. They needed time to get lives, hopes, and affairs in order - time to plan strategy, logistics. She knew, as she also undertook this, that even in this moment of quiet repose, Michael was designing a course of action. They and Gabriel, Raphael and Alex would lead the forces for Father. She broke from her thoughts as the breeze rose through the sheers and she awaited the wafting air's caress on her skin.

She watched the gentle ocean breeze play with her love's tousled hair. It tickled him a bit and disturbed his rest causing him to shift lightly. He brushed the tickling offensive hair with his hand. She watched his long supple muscles …the way they allowed him to move so fluidly. Even the simple brush by his hand to his temple was a grace born of their controlled power. She watched his mouth, the fullness of his lips, the sensual curve of them, the way they parted lightly allowing his breath to enter and expel there, temporarily bypassing his nose in his relaxed slumber.

She hoped he would snore, so she could tease him about it, as he still teased her and laughed about the bug incident the day they first made love. He did snore! She smiled. It was perfect…another perfect and endearing imperfection. She would never mention it. It would just be hers to keep. Then Michael felt her eyes on him and throatily breathed a "hum," as he smiled gently, recalling their pleasure and looking forward to the exquisite, delicious sight he knew would meet his eyes as they opened to the light of day and Jillian.

"Well, good…morning?" she said in a sultry play of uncertainty at the time of day, implying that she had been dazed by her lover into the loss of time's march. "Ha," he laughingly breathed, happily amused with her subtle flattery , then suddenly embarrassed at the recall of his having indulged his own ravenous passions. He remembered his lack of reserve and now worried for her…for their child in her womb. He placed his hand on her abdomen and asked with his expression, fearful of what she might think of him, what he might have risked fulfilling his passion's requirement. He spoke his remorse, "Forgive me, I should have more restraint."

His apology for being so openly passionate did not surprise her. Michael always worried that he would let himself go too far. There was much to control of his nature. But she was his equal and control of his desire, nor his lovemaking was a concern. She was not of bound humanity any longer and it hurt her heart that he felt he should be sorry he lacked reserve with her. She remembered he had long been confined to bound human company. She would help him remember that had changed.

She covered his hand with hers and smiled reassuringly. She nodded lovingly, acknowledging that their child was safe as she spoke, " Both your offspring and its mother are made of sturdier stardust than you may know, my love. You shouldn't fear for us." She added as she brushed her fingers to the sunlit cheek of his worried face. " You exercise restraint in all things, Michael. You are a temple of restraint. Let it not be so here, with us. Be all that you are. I happily indulge your passion and I share it, always."

Her words, her expression gave him peace…set him free from his shame and worried doubts. He could not love her more. For someone so astute, it surprised him how long it was taking for him to grasp that no apology was necessary with one who knew him so completely…one who loved him… without reserve…one who could have him as he was…all that he was. He blushed with awe at that fact. Rising to her in a one armed push up, he dusted her lips with his in a breath of a kiss and they brushed noses, eyes closed to absorb the sensation of one another. After a moment of such closeness they shared breath, they parted.

Michael slipped from bed and stood to stretch away his restful state. "I'm …starving, I think," he admitted. He fluffed then sheathed his wings. Standing with his side toward Jillian, she could watch the light play at the small of his back and its dance over the muscular arc of his buttocks. She saw the shadow play in the well-defined muscle of his abdomen. She admired the firm rise and expanse of his chest. He felt her gaze. She sensed that and looked away to the outdoors. Michael turned his head toward her in a way he knew she favored, thinking to enchant her with his glance. Instead, he was struck by the way the light surrounded her.

She looked like bisque porcelain set aglow by candlelight. Her full lips were softly parted as she tasted the richly scented salt air flowing through the room. Those lips whose warmth and passion met his body's desire so perfectly and formed the words which were always a delight, an enlightenment and a refuge to him. The golden lights in her chocolate hair flashed as the breeze tossed it gently about her smooth shoulder. The soft morning rays of light traced her breasts, accentuating their firm round fullness. The highlighting announced the curvature of her waist, hips and the soft arching of her long outer thigh. She was a physical ballet of graceful perfection.

He watched her looking out at the beauty beyond these walls through the side window. He knew she was sending her greetings to their friends in the pasture below. She changed positions to look toward him. She moved with a flowing strength that he found mesmerizing. Her elegant beauty froze him to a still of captivated smolder.

He drew a sharp inhalation, even now he did gasp at the sight of her nakedness and desire her. She sensed his lust and more. She felt the physical tightness at the center of his soul that told of her unmistakable presence in him, her home in him. She felt Michael's longing in the part of his soul that lived within her. They met at their bed's center to christen the day with a tender passion.

Michael took her in his arms like the treasure she was to him. His expression said a thousand things at once…all of them adoring. There, in his beautiful countenance, was his love and respect and all that carried with it. In his face was etched the evidence of his gratitude for her and to her, his complete honor to be with her, his awe that through her merciful and understanding love she chose to be his.

There was the telltale wearing of his incomprehensible wonder at what they were together and at what they created as they joined. As ever, he marveled that here was she who completed a great purpose of life with him…renewal…there within her…life…their child. And this mighty being read of how humbled he was in the presence of all of this…grace; that every moment with Jillian was that… a stunning form of grace.

Slowly he moved to press his lips, achingly full of the depth of his heart, to the place where issued the life's breath of his love…his other…the one. With Jillian pouring her love back in equal measure, they drowned together in the cascade of their devotion. It was, in every way, a sacred union.

It was not the first time none but creatures witnessed miracle. It may have been the first time it happened twice in one day. From his pasture Adonis looked to the window where he knew his friends were. He and Diamond, along with everything here, had earlier stilled in honor of the power and beauty of their creation …but now, an odd white light at once shimmered, pierced and poured as a molten metal from the windows open to where the two extraordinarys were within.

Diamond woke and saw their light as well. He bowed his head as his tail tapped gentle approval of this evidence of a completion of totality. Adonis, too looked away from their light and dropped his head in a reverent bow of respect of the purity of completeness of being…of a thing never before witnessed… a glory attained by a sacred joy…evidenced by the singular glorious light born of a mutual halo.

xxxx

Alex entered the small cave he had located as a boy in the rocky hills outside of Vega. He lit a couple of candles and turned off his flashlight. This was his secret getaway. He had gone there since he was a child when he needed to escape the oppression of being a V1. Now he used it for a break from being The Chosen One. He had supplied it well with food, water, arms, comforts, necessities.

As he walked to the back of the cave, he dropped his sword and took off his guns. He kept the knives on him…concealed. He lay on the comfortable double bed at the back of his sanctuary and sighed, "Oh man," as he rubbed his head which hurt from holding the enormous events of recent days' happenings. He hadn't rested in a couple of them. He replayed the incredible events of the day before…

Noma had shown him her new wings...in front of a human army! He'd been shocked to see them and felt no good could come of it. He'd asked with all due alarm…

"…what have you done?" But Noma, directing the conversation only to him responded, "Alex, I know what you think," she began. "No, you don't. Nomes how is this even possible?" He had asked with deepest concern. "Just wait, Alex. I'll explain everything. It'll be alright! Really," Noma tried to convince him.

She looked beyond him to the small army that had just pledged their loyalty to The Chosen One and addressed the startled assembly who were preparing to fight her because… she was an angel . "Hold, please," she said to them. "Listen to me. I am Noma, lieutenant to the Archangel Michael, your guardian. I have helped to watch over the Chosen One since he was an infant. I honor him as you do. I fight by his side…for you. I pledge my life to him…and under her breath, so only Alex could hear, she added…and my heart."

Everyone stood their ground and waited for Alex. It took him a moment to recover from Noma's new look and that last part of her pledge, but he realized the people were waiting. He hesitated to turn because he knew when he did, he would not be who he had been, who he thought he was, but he would be what Michael had said.

He recalled the moment in the Stratosphere when Michael had revealed the meaning of his Chosen One identity to him. "I'm no Savior, Michael!" He had insisted. "You are," Michael told him. "I'm just a man," Alex had reinforced. He'd realized he might get some answers for his confusion and so asked about the markings, "What are they?" Michael explained to him, "They will lay out the means by which mankind will be redeemed and Gabriel's legions pushed back."

He recalled another time, during their early sessions, Michael had told him, "By your choices and the guidance of these markings you will make all as it should be. You will save mankind and possibly angels as well. In so doing, you will open the way for Father's return. You must learn to read them, Alex, now focus." As he remembered this lesson, Alex turned to face the waiting army of humans he'd restored from possession earlier and the others they had recruited.

He swallowed hard before he spoke to them, "We accepted the aid and guidance of the Archangel Michael, who kept us safe. He chose us, led us by example of compassion and infused us with a future hope. He believes, as Noma does, that we were never meant to be at odds…that we are …all of us…children of our absent Father..."

He couldn't believe he was saying this but he did, "…even as we battle to take back our birth right, we have to begin to heal what is broken. Angels were our protectors, our guides, our teachers…"

"…Our punishers," one man shouted. "Yes even that, but more than that… they are also our brothers and sisters by our Father's making and there is such good in that." Alex looked at Noma. He was lovingly grateful for her contributions to this epiphany. He recalled Michael's guidance over the years of his life. How had he, for so long, missed the love that represented? He even recalled the kindness, the love in the eight- ball, Clementine toward Claire. As his words formed, he knew he was fulfilling prophecy. This was meant to be. The Chosen One would save mankind… and angels.

He finished by saying," Can we follow Michael's high example? Can we honor it? Are we united in our cause? Will we fight together to end this madness? Will we take back our lives, our brothers and sisters, all of them, and heal this…our world… earth…and heaven…" He looked at Noma. He remembered how she had longed to get to see heaven again…to go home.

"Will we save earth …for the sake of heaven?" He ended softly, not with fire, to let them consider a purpose even greater than just their own. Noma was stunned that he had said that…to "save earth for the sake of heaven". It was true. She had never thought of it that way. But unless earth was saved, there may never be a return to heaven. This entire dominion was at stake.

Father would never forgive the angels for destroying Earth or mankind. He would never return or reopen heaven. If mankind could do this…there was hope…there would be proof of why man was worthy of Father's affection. Yes, angels would rally to that…they would see the common good they could all serve…save earth for heaven's sake. It was inspired.

There was complete silence as the small band of humans and an angel made the choice. They determined the fate of a dominion…decided its salvation. The small army in the tunnel below Vega made the choice and raised the cry, "For Earth and Heaven!"

Michael was not present for their choice. Michael had been given a life assigned to great deeds and it was sworn to duty by his Father, for his Father. His Father had given him insights, gifts that helped information gel to wisdom. This solidified his choices, kept him on his course, indeed, gave him courses that could foster enormous change. Some which even surprised his Father.

But great trials were the companion of great deeds. So that now, in this monumental unfolding of choice occurring deep within the heart of Vega, Michael was above, facing the consequences of his choice, a choice that had baffled even his archangel brothers and sisters, as well as most of his kind. His choice to continue to serve mankind against all odds and the apparent wishes of Father, had brought him to the ordeal plotted against him as a traitor. He did not hate the architects of this trial . He accepted the result of his duty and, in faith, endured, watched and waited for opportunity to continue his purpose.

While Michael dealt, once more, with the ignorance of his kind that spawned their anger and resentment, Alex met his challenge using examples of this unique Archangel's ways and life in Vega to inform him. He considered that for 25 years, he had watched Michael endure the disdain of his own kind. He had watched him exist in virtual isolation. He had seen the mistrust and anger of much of humanity against his kind as it was directed at Michael while he worked tirelessly to save the human race, especially by the likes of David Whele…and even from himself.

For all the years of his young life, Alex had watched Michael manage that and had never understood it...not the meaning of it or the weight of it, until this moment. For Alex and for everyone in that tunnel, Michael's deeds, his teachings, his example, his works brought this event to fruition. It was this moment that his duty as the Advent of Salvation became realized as his honor and bestowed Michael his newest heavenly title, Advent of Salvation.

It was one and the same moment Alex's life and lessons coalesced to elevate him to his destiny. Alex and Michael were bound together with and by their destinies. Alex could see that clearly now. He was amazed by the revelation. It made him think that Michael was right… that Father did have a plan and it was unfolding in an intricate perfection he had never imagined before. Alex smiled to think, without his mind being trained by Michael's kind of lessons, he would never even have noticed the fine weaving of circumstances. He felt humbled. In this moment of his greatest life achievement and its display of power, he felt humbled.

This happening was a crucial necessity in the plan of all things. It was momentous to mankind as they had to forgive the angel atrocities. There was no greater lesson of mercy for them or evidence of their great capacity to love…to unlearn hate. It was a substantial leap in his growth for Alex to accept advancing that as an aspect of his duty. His burden was now squarely on his shoulders. It was heavy, but Michael had prepared him better than Alex knew…better than even Michael knew. Alex accepted his duty, his greatness… with humility. This moment… and that fact …caused Alex's markings to fire to life and they illuminated him in a glorious light announcing his achievement.

Alex felt a burning, in his left chest and on it. He pulled his shirt open to see the cause. A marking appeared there and fired to life. It was a small flame within an oval. It appeared different from his other markings. It animated its flames but it did not move from its location with the flow of the language. It was raised, not flush with his skin. He looked up from it to find the company on bended knee again… including Noma. It was done. The Chosen One had taken his mantle. The Savior had come. Alex had chosen well. But who was this new Savior… _ **what**_ was he? Alex worried…what was it that he had become?

While Alex became Savior, Noma realized that she had been selfish to just think about getting her own wings…so much more was in the balance. But she would redeem her choice. She was resolved to that. It would be risky but it could make a difference. She decided she would tell Alex everything. He had to know everything. She stood from her place and walked to Alex. " I have to have a private word with you…it's really important, Alex." Alex pointed to five uniformed people in the group. "You are my command staff. Divide these people into five equal companies. I'll rejoin you soon."

Noma began when she and Alex entered the office at the back of what used to be a high end clothing store. "Alex, my wings…you aren't going to like this…and… and, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have, but maybe some good will come of this."

"Just spit it out, Noma…nothing can shock me anymore than…those…" Alex waved his hands implying the now not present wings, "… showing up."

"Okay, okay, um when we were at the house outside of New Delphi , after we escaped Gabriel's aerie, I met this man who said he was 'The Prophet'. I sensed something of the divine in him…he was more than a man. I thought maybe he was sent by Father. He said he would protect you from the eight-balls. They were gathering to attack us and then he said he could get my wings back for me…as Noma spoke, she recalled…

"…all I need from you is a promise, " said the mysterious smiling man.

"A promise? Wha…" Noma started to ask.

The Prophet answered before she could question him, " To take Alex to Vega, then… take him East," said The Prophet greatly over simplifying the gravity of his request.

Noma continued her story to Alex: "The eight balls were too many for me to fight, Alex…I…I was in so much pain…I just nodded to what he said and then he was gone. He asked me to take you to Vega…then East. We were going to Vega anyway, I didn't see the harm and we got away safely. He helped us, Alex. He did," Noma said pleadingly seeking approval…even her own approval.

"I have a feeling this is where things go wonky, " Alex said of Noma's recounting. "Yeah, a bit. When Michael fell ill in Vega, he said a name just as he collapsed, Mallory. I didn't think anything of it, but later on, after you left the room, The Prophet arrived…I don't know how he got there, he just was…there. He told me on signal, I was to take you to a town in the East, Mallory, Alabama. I asked why. He said that it wasn't my concern.

I asked about my wings, and he said they had begun their return and I would know that by the uncomfortable sense of their regrowth. I would be informed when it was time that they could be presented. I was to use them to carry you to Mallory. He also said it was my job to make certain you were able to enjoin a great battle which would begin immediately following my gift of new wings.

He said I had to see to it that you were present for what was to come to pass. So I'm thinking he means this battle we are about to plan, Alex…since my wings are here." Alex started to interrupt her and she shushed him with a finger to his lips and continued, " But wait , there's more and this is when it gets really interesting.

When Michael woke up from his illness and we met you in the bunker, he said Lucifer had returned! Alex, Lucifer has the power of creation. I think he is behind my wings. I don't know why, but I think he's protecting you! Sending the Prophet to fight the eight-balls, giving me wings so I can protect you better… making sure you were here to form this army. He could be an ally!"

"Noma, god, Nomes, no!" Alex hugged Noma as he spoke. "I don't think he wants to help Noma. He's an archangel, they can be problematic in the best of times and Michael wasn't at all pleased he'd returned." Alex , hands on each shoulder, held Noma at arms' length looking squarely into her eyes to say to her, " I think caution is the best thing here. We need a plan that will work either way this goes. We have to think like an archangel…multi leveled chess," Alex finished with certainty. "Well", Noma calmed from her excited retelling and started thinking like a soldier again, "we need to consider scenarios…if, then… strategies."

"Exactly." Alex said. Then they did come up with plans for as many contingencies as they could think of in the time they had. If Lucifer was on their side, they would be good with that. If he wasn't , Noma would be inside his camp to report. If what Lucifer wanted was him, Noma was to play along until opportunity to get him away presented itself or she could get to Michael for help. It was then that Alex had been told about what was going on in the Plaza. That was where the angels were concentrated. Also he was told, more people had come to fight with them...lots more.

Then Alex was informed that angels had dragged Michael out to execute him. Alex and Noma still didn't know if Lucifer intended Alex to stop that or if he'd wanted him to witness it, so as to break him. "Damn," Alex said, "Damn duplicitous conniving… masterminds! We have to move, Nomes," he'd said. "Yes, Alex we…"she didn't finish. Alex had taken her in a passionate kiss then whispered to her, "Be careful out there, remember how much I need you."

"Alex wait there's something important…"Noma had something else to tell Alex but there was not time… "When we're done, Nomes…there's something else I want to tell you, too…", Alex said smiling back at her rakishly as they hurried to the head of their growing- by –the- second army and charged out of the tunnel into the Plaza…

Now in his hideaway cave, Alex wished he'd told her he wanted to marry her before the battle. Now she was in Lucifer's camp and they were on the brink of an apocalypse. From the sound of it, maybe "The Apocalypse"- Armageddon, Michael had called it. There had been too damned many endings, too damned many extinction and extermination events. What was he thinking wanting to marry in the midst of this cluster of apocalyptic mega- messes?

Did the "Chosen One" even have the right to marry, he wondered? Well if it was anyone but Noma, maybe not. She had been there through all of it. She knew him and he knew her. No secrets between them. They fought together, she knew his habits and flaws and he knew hers. She was his confidant, his lover, his friend. She loved him. She said she did. He loved her. He trusted her. He thought, even Michael trusted her and he didn't trust anyone.

Maybe it would work. He loved her enough to ask her to marry. Human and angel relationships were taboo, but maybe what had happened out there had changed that. If he married Noma it might make it even more clear that angels and humans were together, united now. Ah, to hell with that…he just loved her. Besides, he'd let love, a child, a beautiful life escape him with the loss of Claire to taboos of the "V" system…and duty. He wouldn't do it again. He decided he would ask her. The weary young Chosen One fell asleep to dream of love, just as the cave's candle light flickered out.

Alex's dream was interrupted. He awakened to see a figure approach him, smiling, friendly in a menacing kind of way. He reached for his knives. The figure laughed. "Alex, I am a projection of myself, you cannot harm me," The Prophet said to him. Then The Prophet said, "Chosen of Father, behold your brother, Lucifer and be allied with him. He holds your lover in his own sweet embrace." The Prophet showed Alex Noma, her wings pinned and her body wrapped in chains held by Lucifer. Both the Prophet and Lucifer laughed at the undeniable choice they knew Alex would have to make. It was a choice that was not a choice.

If he had not already lost Claire, if he had not been trained…raised… by a calculating archangel, Alex might have made another choice. Lucifer had taken steps to make it so Alex would make the choice Lucifer wanted. He had instructed Julian to make a dyad of Claire's father so he could return to Vega and get close enough to kill Claire with unsuspecting ease. Loss of Claire would make Alex vulnerable. They had not anticipated the effects of Clementine on Edward. She was meant to entice the General to want to live just long enough to get Duma into him as a dyad and to get Duma to Vega. But Riesen really loved Clementine. That had changed things.

Lucifer had another prong to the plan and sought to make an inroad with Gabriel. By having Julian poison him with the Darkness, Julian could then use his special skills to break Gabriel in order to possess him. With Julian's possession of the broken Gabriel, Lucifer would gain a powerful archangel body to strengthen his position. That would be especially true when Julian, as Gabriel, killed Michael leaving Alex even more vulnerable. But Gabriel surprised them by evicting Julian. Still, Gabriel, under influence of The Darkness killed Clementine forcing Edward Riesen to fade, giving rise to Lucifer's follower, Duma. Lucifer counted that as a success.

And amazingly, Julian's prompting of Gabriel in the breaking process did present a bonus! Gabriel _**wanted**_ to kill Michael! Lucifer thought that was rich! There would be fun in Vega after all. Unfortunately, as things unfolded, Lucifer saw Gabriel wasn't going to survive The Darkness long enough to kill Michael.

He did see a way to reap some advantage. He sought to gain Gabriel and Michael's favor and make him believe he had good intentions by healing Gabriel of The Darkness infection. In truth, Lucifer had another plot underway to take Michael's life when they got to Vega and had it not been for the meddling Raphael arriving to heal Michael, Michael would have been gone, too. No matter. Things well-crafted brought good results in many ways.

Lucifer had what he most required now. Alex would choose to save Noma and his plan would commence. Lucifer looked at The Prophet and said with great pleasure, "Jackpot! This dominion is my playground to bathe in Armageddon…all for the price of a little pair of wings." He giggled looking down at Noma, as the smiling Prophet bowed to him with respect, saying "My Lord and Master." The Prophet's wings presented in salute…they were not white…they were not black…they were great, magnificent, _golden wings_.

The Prophet had been one of mankind, bound, as Jillian. Lucifer had unbound him when torturing him to see what heaven's weapons would do to a man. He'd used "The Stone" on him. Lucifer had expected him to vaporize…'pop like a little fire cracker'… he'd said, as he placed it on the writhing, terrified human.

Not realizing it, Lucifer had throttled The Tablet of Unmaking's power by combining its use with another weapon, the Gauzien. He'd toyed with its effects on the human and still had the key to the Gauzien in the 'on' position when he initiated The Stone. The two together had an interesting effect. It allowed the individual being attacked to survive to be -unveiled - their true nature released, if they were bound. The stunned Lucifer, questioned the new form of angel he'd uncovered. Under attack of The Stone and the Gauzien, Bry-an revealed all.

Knowing now what mankind was, the begotten children of his Father and his Father's mate, Lucifer struck a bargain. He said he would spare Bry-an if he served him and would reward him with his own godhood…his own dominion…when all was done. Bry-an agreed and was given to be called "The Prophet of Lucifer".

Then Lucifer set about a means to destroy ALL of mankind. He would initiate Armageddon. If any angels survived, fine…he'd manage them with the Weapons of Heaven but all of humanity had to go. He had finally found a way to get back at his Father for choosing to cast him out…...for abandoning him, leaving him defenseless, unloved and alone…him…Father's first and greatest Archangel! Michael wasn't his greatest son…he was! He would take everything his Father loved most from him…just as He had done to him. All he needed was an infusion of super powered soul …Alex… and he could defeat anyone… Michael, his Father's very own offspring, even Father.


	19. Chapter 19 End of All Things

Salvation

Chapter 19

End of All Things

Alex's choice that was not a choice had been made in the fires of the sacrifices made for his life, his lessons. If Alex hadn't already learned the cost good people, people he loved, were willing to pay so he could do what he was meant to do, he might have made a different decision. Alex decided to allow Noma and his heart to pay the ultimate price so he could fulfill his Chosen One purpose.

There was too much at stake. Michael had taught him that self -sacrifice was often the way to the greater good. Claire had taught him that, Jeep had taught him that. Even Gates, the engineer geek guy, had taught him that when he saved Vega from nuclear meltdown. He couldn't let a guy like Gates, one-up him. Everyone he knew, gave everything they could for him, for the good of all. He remembered some line from something he'd seen or read. 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few; or the one.' Well it was something like that. He would honor the lessons his young life had given .

He was sure Noma understood duty and was prepared to give her life, she had said she was. So was he. He hoped Noma could forgive him, though likely, he'd never forgive himself…not for her sacrifice, not for any of his family, loves or …who knew how many others had paved his way to this moment. He had seen and now understood how such decisions as this weighed, even on the likes of Michael. He wasn't sure he'd survive it, but this was how it had to be.

Time had been given for everyone to choose their side. The worldwide battle was currently underway. As Alex stood alone, he resumed thoughts of Noma and sent her his love. He was glad that Michael knew of her sacrifice. Alex had told Michael of their plan. He recalled how, earlier, Michael had flown to his cave hide-a-way to discuss privately the plans for their siege and defense against Lucifer's forces. Only he and Gabriel and Alex and Jillian would have the key information.

Michael had stood outside the cave's opening and called within, "Alex, it's Michael, may I come in?"

"How the hell do you know about this place?" Alex said with the bristle of annoyance to his surprise.

"I've always known, Alex. It was my duty to look after you." Michael reconsidered his admission, wanting Alex to know that he was more to him than duty "…my… honor."

Alex ignored, Michael's attempt to talk of how he felt about him. He wasn't ready to make a farewell open for conversation. Michael was more familiar with the losses of battle. While he understood that he or Alex may not survive this and there may not be another time for it, he respected Alex's need for avoidance and allowed the conversation to go his way. "Why've you never come here before?" Alex pressed.

"You needed this place, your time alone. I only needed to know you were safe here. So…may I?" Michael finished by indicating his request to enter with a motion of his hand.

"Yeah, yes come in." They spoke of the plans for this Armageddon, the Battle of Choice. Michael explained using a site map of Vega and surroundings, "There're will be flame throwers along here to fight both ground forces and the winged. You will position here. Gabriel and I will flank you…" Alex couldn't wait any longer and interrupted Michael with his need to share this, " I should tell you there is an ally in Lucifer's camp." The surprised archangel stopped his discourse and responded, "Who? That is valuable information, Alex."

"I know, but it's important not everybody knows. I had to wait to tell you when no one else was around. Noma's betrayal was a ruse to get her into Lucifer's camp as a double agent." Michael looked at the floor of the cave. He took a deep steady breath and his emotion at the news read on his face.

Alex continued, "I wanted you to be aware. Your trust was not misplaced, Michael." It was important to Alex to share that, for Noma's sake… and for Michael's. He wanted them to know their trust of one another had been honored. Michael had nodded but didn't speak. Alex could tell by Michael's reaction it was right to have told his mentor Noma was not a traitor.

Then Alex's thoughts left that visit in the candle lit shadows of his small cave and called to mind Claire and her sacrifice, her strength. He recalled her words after his first mass eviction, "You are what you were meant to be…"she'd said. It helped him now - that she had believed in his ability. His attention left these thoughtful reviews.

With a tidal wave of possessed storming toward him ready to run him over, Alex stood ready to perform a mass eviction. He did not know if he would survive it. Noma had warned him he couldn't do it again, but he had to try. In a moment, he hoped he would fire his markings into the arc of a stunning power of deliverance for the army of the possessed on this side of Vega. They were nearly within range…

xxxx

Gabriel had been commanding the army south of Alex's position with the duty assigned by Michael and to which he'd agreed. He was to remove Alex from the site if his eviction failed or weakened him too greatly. Michael was commanding the army to the north of Alex with the same intent- to exit Alex if the need arose. Gabriel had flown from his command point and begun fighting furiously in the area. His course of action had brought him to cross swords with his recent nemesis, Julian.

Gabriel was set to kill his former tormentor when the flash of Alex's eviction struck. "Damn." Gabriel complained. the Julian/Lyrae Dyad had given Gabriel an excellent bout…as such things went. Now, Gabriel watched, pleased as Lyrae was again sent screamingly banished to the Outer Sphere, though, he was annoyed he couldn't reward Lyrae with a killing blow from his blade.

A confused Julian, the human Julian, stared with shock into the face of an archangel's fury and at the raging war around him. Gabriel released him, "Go, you poor, bastard. Be free - whatever that means in this quaking disaster." Julian turned to depart, to flee the melee, but stopped. He noticed his wings. He hadn't had wings! Evidently, a lot had changed. He needed quick answers.

He turned to the ascending archangel and asked, "What of these wings?!" Gabriel responded, "A long story short?" Gabriel half asked with full intent to proceed in that vein. Julien nodded, knowing full well that was the only way to hear the answer under the circumstances. Gabriel continued, "You were possessed by a higher angel for 25 years and gifted the wings for nefarious services rendered to Lucifer." Julien cocked his head in an 'it figures' acceptance of that radical report.

"So … I'm sure another long story, short. What is at stake here?" Julien indicated with a sweeping hand motion indicating the ensuing conflict around them. Gabriel looked back at the newly released human. He was impressed with his presence of mind and his courage. He told the human Julian the truth,"Everything humanity and heaven loves is at stake." Julian considered that for a second before he replied, "A worthy battle. I'll stay. I need to find a weapon."

Julian looked about for a fallen gun or blade. Gabriel flew to him and gave him his own sword. Even bloodied it was a beautiful and obviously extraordinary weapon. Julian sensed he'd been paid a high compliment. "I will honor this intention, thank you. May I know your name?"

" I am the Archangel Gabriel." Gabriel said as he drew forth another blade from its sheath by his side.

"I'm Julien Sullivan, Archangel . I require a command, it seems."

"I command you to live, then, Julien Sullivan," said Gabriel, again giving Julien a way to depart the field of battle.

"I'd like that. First, I think I'll win this little skirmish." Julian replied surveying Armageddon in process before him.

"Ha, you have ambition!" The amused Gabriel laughed, continuing to assess the winged human in his company.

"I have hope…and 10 years' experience in Special Services," Julien explained.

"I can use a good soldier…a good man," Gabriel said realizing his sword bearer had been chosen better than even he had known.

"You have a good soldier. As to a good man, well that is a work in progress, it seems."

"Indeed, as ever it must be – for all of us," Gabriel said thoughtfully recalling his own journey to becoming and its odd twists and turns . Gabriel was intrigued with his new comrade in arms. He was a surprisingly wise man…and had useful skills. Gabriel suggested they reenter the foray together, "Shall we proceed?"

"Advance, commander," Julien insisted.

Gabriel admired this man and nodded his approval of the term 'advance'. He moved forward raising his sword and glanced back at Julien as he did so saying, "Call me Gabriel."

Gabriel then engaged angels who set upon him. He handled them easily. He did not have Michael's artistry, but he was effective in the extreme, making his style seem deceptively casual . Gabriel enjoyed the strategy of battle more than this slash and burn work. He had legions of angels for this…and his Co-General and brother, Michael.

All he usually had to do was wind Michael up a bit and set him loose. Then wait for the final report. But, in this battle it was all hands on deck. Everyone did everything and anything required. So Gabriel fought on with lethal success toward whatever this end of all things held, with his, 'enhanced- human' Lieutenant, Julian making grand headway beside him.

xxxx

Duma was evicted in the same mass action as Lyrae, bringing Edward Riesen to the surface. Edward fought his way to where he could see Claire. He had been able to help his wife, Clementine, through her possession to become more than she was. He sought to attempt the same with his possessed daughter. But Claire was in the grips of an archangel entity.

Higher Angels could form Dyads which were stable. Since it had never been attempted before, no one realized that Uriel's archangel essence was far too intense to inhabit a human for very long. No one knew she had begun to degrade the Claire vessel. Insanity creeped into play as this happened. Uriel had always loved the art of mankind. She reveled in their creative accomplishment but that admiration, that focus, along with her vessel became corrupted.

Uriel was not aware of the changes that ravaged her. She became hell bent on destroying mankind. That served Lucifer's plan, so again, no one noticed. But Uriel had also begun to resent angel kind's abuse of 'her world's beauty.' She had come to see her immediate family as the chief driving factor in the world's destruction. Uriel intended to undo all of her brothers.

She believed only she could usher in the kind of world required now. She wanted them all dead and gone, man and angel, believing that was the way to preserve the world's remaining beauty and art. So she plotted her own ascension to godhood in a world populated by art, natural beauty and…her…alone. Whoever survived this day, she would eliminate.

Claire was suppressed by this Uriel in all of the twisted brokenness of her deteriorating mind. It was this being that Edward found and called to hopefully, "Claire, it's your father. I'm Edward…free of Duma." Uriel, seeing her formidable Lucifer- minion -commander, Duma was subverted and now stood as just a feeble, sick human, took the opportunity to have both obstacles to her future vision removed. She roared toward Edward with disgust and cut his throat, handily, saying as Edward fell, "Serve a higher purpose human. Fertilize this pitiful desert so that it will bloom again in my care."

Edward was dead before he fell. A loving father, a great general and servant of mankind was lost in that act of compassion and hope for his child. There were worse endings for old soldiers. If there was enough of Claire left to mourn her father, it did not make it to the surface of Uriel's demeanor. She fought on, relishing the slaughter she inflicted, all the while picturing her reign as God when all was over and done.

xxxx

Witnessing the power of Alex by his act of eviction, David Whele found within him hope for humanity. He had his son back and he had gained actual wings from his current alliance with Lucifer. Now he decided he no longer needed Lucifer. He could see Michael still fought for mankind and had even convinced Gabriel to the cause. Maybe the world would be better the way they saw it. Yes, there was hope for mankind. He wanted that world for his son, not Lucifer's. David changed allegiance mid-battle.

William noticed his father had left Lucifer's service. He was fighting with the humans! Feeling it another betrayal by his father, and that it was a real threat to his own life if Lucifer found out, William weaved his way toward his unsuspecting father. Reaching him at last, William plunged his sword into David's chest...through his heart.

Laughing in David's face, now contorted with shock and pain, William teased, "Oh, hohoho! Did I do that?" Then he stared into his father's eyes as their light darkened into the night of death and said with disdain of his chest buried sword, "For you father, a gift to your faithless and traitorous heart!" William withdrew his sword. He remained there a moment standing victorious over the stilled life of his father.

David had been fighting against Arika's battalion and she had seen him begin to fight for her forces…for mankind. She had also just witnessed William kill David. Arika was filled with a confusing cascade of emotions by William's murder of his father and she rushed at him. As she approached William, she recalled her sense of loss at the death of her own father- the savage taking of his life by possessed.

The recollection ushered her primary emotion. Fury had risen to the forefront of her sense of this thing she saw done. She did not see the act of a brutalized man/boy betrayed by a loveless father. She saw the brutality delivered by the ungrateful , physically and mentally corrupted son – one possessed.

Arika came upon William from behind and swung her blade with lethal precision, beheading him screaming at the tumbling head with more emotion than she realized she felt for the man, "For love of your father!" Arika , queen and warrior, then stepped over the tragic men, the one without his head and the one without his heart … and fearlessly hurried onward to her future which she would carve out of this world, no matter how much it took away.

xxxx

Despite great strides, Vega was still overrun with angels and possessed in service of Lucifer's cause. Jillian reached Michael and said to him , "Withdraw your forces from the city…all of them." Michael nodded his understanding of her intention, "Yes, it's time," he said observing the overrun former fortress city. He flew to Gabriel," Sound retreat for the city's troops, brother. Jillian will take it from here."

Gabriel paused his slaughter undertaking for a duty he preferred. He sounded the herald for all troops to exit Vega. Mankind and angel kind helped one another out of the beleaguered city leaving it filled with only evil men, possessed and Lucifer's servants among the Higher Angels.

Jillian stood at the ready, gathering strength. Stone and debris rose up in defiance of gravity as she drew to her the unimaginable power to smite a great city. Michael was returning to stand by her as she performed this great service - to protect her as she recovered from the feat. To his surprise, he saw The Prophet fly toward Jillian… on golden wings…he was like her! Jillian would be besieged unawares by one with her own powers! Michael flew to the defense of his love. He landed between The Prophet and Jillian.

The Prophet laughed at his presence "Ahahaha, Michael. Again, I have the pleasure to call you a fool. I am Bry-an, unbound of Father's First Children, Prophet of Lucifer and a future god in my own right… and you… finally…are dead." Bry-an began to draw power to smite the Archangel. He threw his energy force as a roiling, flaming bolt of power .

Michael had read the trajectory and avoided it in a winged leap and spin. He moved closer and closer to Bry-an swooping under and around the deadly smiting blows . By reading his body language more quickly than Bry-an could change it, Michael got close enough to force hand to hand and wing to wing engagement.

Bry-an was masterful and a ferocious fighter. But by his sparing with Jillian, Michael had learned every move Bry-an would make and how to counter it. Bry-an landed only two blows to the constantly advancing archangel, whose every move was a calculated poetry of evasion and killing blows each more intense than the previous one. Whether it was luck or skill that allowed Bry-an to sustain the encounter as long as he did…both had run out.

Michael dropped to one knee , slid forward while lying back to pass under Bry-an who was midway of a sweeping wing slash attempt and spun, rising cutting Bry-an in half. In finishing his rise from the spin of his kneeling, slicing blow, which parted the Prophet's body, Michael completed the full rotation fluidly standing as he met a new attacker, and beheaded this assailant. As he closed the natural continuation of the spinning strike that severed both the false prophet, and the new threat, he watched the head roll from the new interloper's body.

The severed head rolled to a stop face up allowing Michael to recognize the deceased. It was the face of his Dyad sister. Uriel had caught sight of the engagement and hurried to the conflict in progress hoping to slay Michael in his preoccupation with Bry-an. This was her chance to deliver her vengeance. She had never been Michael's equal in battle and was not this day. In horror Michael screamed his grief at having slain Uriel, "Ahhh!" He wailed his unbearable mournfulness into the sky of an unforgiving night, dropping to his knees. His scream was consumed, silenced in the unprecedented smiting blast that flashed from Jillian and leveled Vega.

Jillian turned from her duty to see Michael on his knees. His pained expression, his wings draped to the ground and slacked by weight of his sorrow. His two blades were resting in his bloodied opened upward facing palms by his sides, stilled by an act of grievous lethal taking. All told of a personal horror. She saw the cause.

Her beloved mentor and friend …taken of heart and mind and body by the evil of this world's madness… now lay separated from life by a brother who loved her and hoped for her redemption. Jillian gasped her distress, and managed to say two words, filled with expression of her trauma in the moment ,"Oh, no!" Michael looked into Jillian's pain as she gazed upon the severed head of Uriel.

His eyes read of pleading for this to not be so, hoping for forgiveness from Jillian's loss of one she adored and wanting to escape the gravity of his actions. He had slain his sister. He waited for what seemed forever for Jillian to look at him… to condemn him, to lash out. He hoped Jillian would take his head - that he would not have to live with this for all eternity. He would not stop her if she did.

Jillian, instead, slowly knelt beside Michael and opened her arms and her golden wings to him as he slowly, gently laid his head to her breast where she let him hide his grief within her understanding embrace. They shared their pain. He only took half a moment in her arms. Half a moment…seconds of a compassion for which he would be grateful throughout eternities. Then Michael stood, steeled himself, and flew to engage the hoard of angels overhead.

He would grieve in his own way later or perhaps that was the only grief he would allow. Jillian didn't know how Michael would conduct his grief, but that he knew she shared it with him, forgave him what he would never forgive himself, was all she could offer . The rest was his burden and she had to let him bear it.

For herself, she would honor the Uriel who had meant so much. Taught and given so much to her, including her dear brother. She would celebrate that Uriel, morn her. Not the one Michael had ended. That Uriel was of necessity… over. She did not know, no one knew, how truly necessary it was.

Now, Jillian watched Michael overhead as she recovered from smiting the city. She saw Michael as he was created to be- a fierce, unstoppable fury. He was a winged judgment: The Sword of Heaven, Hand of Father's Wrath, General of Heaven's Army, Defender of Holies, Guardian of Mankind, Advent of Salvation. Angels fell in his wake by the hundreds, and soon, by thousands. They rained down on the plains like a bloody storm of flesh and feather.

Never had she seen such a display of deadly art. She stood in awe of him – of the power of his might- of the grace and precision of his lethal skill. Then, she engaged similarly, flying to fight by his side to defend her Father and Mother's first creation and their family…her family. Together, Jillian and Michael were a terrible, beautiful bounty of desolation to the servants of Lucifer… to those who forced doom toward man and angel kind and this dominion.

xxxx

Lucifer had 'convinced' Noma he would protect Alex if he joined him. Lucifer had heard the infant heartbeat within Noma's womb and knew he had even more with which to bargain now. He threatened her child if Noma didn't help him win Alex over. Noma had said she would help Lucifer apprehend Alex. It was her intention to attempt to escape Lucifer when she got to Vega, but he held her in close quarters.

Seeing the battle going well for mankind, and that Alex had performed the mass eviction, Noma decided not to risk her child, the Chosen One's child in an escape attempt. She confirmed her agreement to Lucifer's terms. She told him she would help him secure Alex in exchange for her child's life. Noma decided she would find a way to escape and to save Alex somehow…later.

General Dianna Vincent of Helena's forces had absorbed the newly released humans born of Alex's eviction and they swamped the higher angel and possessed ground factions who escaped the smiting action . Dianna briefly became separated from her forces. She accidently found herself over hearing Noma plotting with Lucifer to capture Alex.

She was about to turn to leave but Lucifer flew behind her. Out of her view, he used the Gauzien to wipe her memory . Lucifer implanted a command intending to use Dianna as a sleeper to his purpose. Having set his future trap within Dianna's mind, he let her return to her troops.

Lucifer and Noma swooped in soon after Alex turned from his mass eviction. Weakened from his effort, Alex had no defenses. Raphael was supposed to protect him after Gabriel and Michael left the area of the eviction. She was to heal him if necessary. She had seen to his health and then had been drawn away by overhead attacks of incomprehensible numbers to protect Alex from that threat.

In this moment without a present archangel defender, Lucifer and Noma descended from the foray and carried Alex away, far away…to Mallory. Once at the Mallory church, Lucifer released Alex. Noma began pleading with Alex to buy time for opportunity, "Just listen to him, Alex." Now, with Alex in Lucifer's chamber below the Mallory church, Lucifer commenced his seduction of Alex to his service…to garner his power.

"Alex," Lucifer began, "I gift you this". Lucifer touched Alex on his back and at his chest and a beautiful scintillation surrounded Alex. He felt something seat within him…in his right chest, and also below his right rib. He bent to the sensation. He felt an odd sensation at his back and a tightening that was uncomfortable. It twinged and became painful. "Ah, what have you done?" Alex asked, reaching for the pain at his back.

"Behold. You are winged, Alex. My gift to you. Not only are you winged, but you have the gift of dimensional travel." Lucifer presented his gift graciously. "Well that's um…" Alex looked at his new and impressive white wings in the full length mirror Lucifer provided. He laughed in amazement "…Damn, Lucifer, you make it nearly impossible, don't you."

"Nearly, Alex? Well perhaps this will convince you entirely. Tell him, Noma." Alex stood with confused interest as Noma obeyed Lucifer's invitation to speak. "I'm sorry , Alex…he just knew…he heard the heartbeat. Alex, I'm pregnant. The child is yours. It's what I wanted to tell you before, in the tunnels, but…"

"Nomes! Oh, Noma, my Nomes…"Alex moved toward Noma to embrace her with his joy evident. It was joy such that he'd forgotten Lucifer, his new wings, Armageddon, being The Chosen One…he just wanted his love - who bore his child. Lucifer threw an energy field and stopped Alex cold. Encased in the energy field, Alex could not move.

Lucifer seized Noma. He knew if Alex ever reached her they would fight their way out and away together. He was prepared…ever another plot. With a dropper to her eye, he poisoned Noma with "The Darkness." He had secured several vials of the awful force separate from the Amphora and stored it in his hidden chamber here. One vial now served this atrocity.

Noma screamed as the horror of "The Darkness" entered her mind. She dropped to her knees. Alex screamed, "No Lucifer, stop…Noma!" But Lucifer had no intention of allowing there to be a halt to this. He watched as her eyes blackened. He thought they were the same dark color Michael's eyes turned when he was consumed in fury. He loved it when Michael surrendered to his darkness. He always hoped Father would see it and hate him for it.

Smiling, Lucifer waited for more screaming to issue from the fallen Noma. But to Lucifer's surprise, Noma stopped her struggle and became peaceful. "Humph, you never cease to amaze me Noma. What is this new strength?"

"The Darkness and I are old friends, Lucifer. I was chosen as its protector not long ago," she said smiling as her blackened eyes flashed. "Having served, I serve still."

"And whom do you serve, exactly? " Lucifer asked, prepared to deal a death blow. "Why, master of the Darkness, of course… holder of the Source."

"Delightful," chuckled Lucifer, as clearly, he held the Source. He turned from Noma to Alex. "And you, Alex, whom do you choose…and choose you must. Serve me, or I will take you."

" I will never serve you Lucifer. I will take everything from you." Alex threatened.

"Well, not yet," Lucifer purred. You don't have the juice back. I thought you might feel that way, so let me just take your pure heart as my own."

He reached into a small, common appearing chest that he'd reacquired from his minion, Julian, when he'd healed him of a wound Gabriel inflicted some time ago. Lucifer removed from the simple chest a, glowing bejeweled device the size and shape of a large pocket knife. It was an instrument with a specific purpose. "This is "The Exaltor," Lucifer explained as he studied its glowing jeweled exterior.

Lucifer pressed a small jewel near the edge of the instrument which initiated The Exaltor. Instantly, a dagger of searing light with slender siphoning filaments flowing from along the blade presented, seemingly out of thin air. The filaments were aggressively seeking and extending into the area beyond the light of the blade's energy.

"It's designed to take essence…a soul reaper … or it can extract the power of say….even a pure heart." It isn't meant to kill the donor but it can if you do it right," Lucifer snickered. Lucifer pressed the button again and it split the dagger into dual blades, both with seeking, reaping tendrils… "or it can do both." It stores it all in this small casing - some kind of diminson wizardry of good ole Dad's.

I'm grateful for his little toys, really. They've all contributed to such …possibilities for advancement. I feel an advancement coming on now. With a power blast he pinned Alex to the nearby wall. He tore away Alex's shirt. Lucifer reclosed the blades and moved in closely to Alex. He held The Exaltor to Alex's chest and moved to press the ignition jewel.

Michael, having noticed Alex's absence had followed his brother, Lucifer's dimensional signature suspecting Alex's disappearance to be his doing. Michael now rushed into the church of Mallory and down to the lower chamber where Lucifer had taken the captured Alex. Lucifer was poised to take Alex's essence, his soul , to give him power to win the war of Armageddon… the power to live as God.

"No, Lucifer, stop. You mustn't! Please. Release him. He cannot give you what you require." Michael said to Lucifer. Lucifer replied, " Why should I? And of course he can! Alex can make me as powerful as Father. With his essence and the blood of his pure heart I would want or need for nothing. I would remake creation as I would have it," Lucifer said, his madness ringing clearly as he rippled through his hideous forms.

"Lucifer, you tried that once before. Do you remember? You sought to take the power, what you coveted, from me, with this very device. You had only just begun when Father stopped you. But the damage was done. My genetics… made you …as you are. And so, it is not Alex who can help you."

Michael spoke the truth as he knew it to be but also engaged his power of imperative. Periodically, it made his voice sound like a harmony of three of his own vocalizations. It was calming, hypnotic and compelling. He spoke to his crazed brother to convince him to be open to his cure . "Only I can give you what you need, Lucifer. It has always, ever been, only me." With great humility and respect for the serious nature of what he was about to reveal, Michael continued without the imperative.

It was hard for him to admit this. He had never felt worthy: "Does my name not mean, 'most like unto God'? There is a reason. Within me, housed in my genetics and my essence is the code to all creation and knowledge…and the key to the power to wield it. Father imparted it to me during my making. Without realizing, He touched me with his own genetics , his own essence, his own mind. I don't understand it. Somehow, the way that bonded with my own genetics it became something Father was unwilling to duplicate but would not destroy."

"I am made to defend. That is my purpose. So it is that I am not only the vessel of Godly power, but its protector. I must keep anyone from taking any part of it. If someone takes part of it from me, it makes them mad…no one can bear it. No one can wield the power of it. It poisons them." Lucifer interjected, "Oh this is rich, Michael. Father not only made you Defender of his Holies, but He made you one of them?! You have God's power? Who's the self- absorbed, mad one here?!"

"I cannot utilize the power within, but I can safely impart it- once and only once- in its entirety. Lucifer, this is the way to stop the maddening effects of an imperfect or incomplete incursion of my genetics...by transferring the power…all of it. It is the way to heal you. Do you understand? Lucifer, you will become more than Father's son. You will become as Father." Alex was horrified, "Michael, you can't do this! You can't make Lucifer as powerful as God. He's twisted. He'd make all of creation a Hell…he's doing that now!"

Michael didn't address Alex but continued to court Lucifer, " Take me brother, take all that you need from me… let all that I am heal your pain and set you free at last. I am the one you require. Allow Alex and Noma to go free. You will not be disappointed, nor will you go wanting." Speaking with his most intense imperative, Michael said, "I am all you need to be sustained and to become all you may...to be as God."

"Yes," Lucifer hissed, swayed by the strong imperative, " I _**will**_ take you, Michael." Lucifer threw Alex to Noma and said, "Hold him." He threw a power blast at Michael and pinned him to the wall. Then with his mental powers, Lucifer secured him with empyrean steel shackles there.

Michael allowed himself to be captured as he said, "Noma, take Alex away quickly." He did not know she was converted, her mind cloaked by The Darkness to serve Lucifer. She did not receive the intent of his imperative because of its affects. He did not know Lucifer's madness would not receive the complete intention of his imperative. He did not know Alex had wings. Alex remained at risk.

Noma and Alex struggled as Alex tried to get free of her. They fought, even using wings. Noma was strengthened by the power of The Darkness and overcame him, but she had cut Alex's hand in the fracas causing it to bleed before she took Alex in a hold. 'No! …Noma, don't do this!" Michael pleaded, realizing his Lieutenant had changed allegiance.

Seeing Alex using his white wings, Michael asked the obvious, "Lucifer, you gave Alex wings?" Lucifer snorted,"Yes, ingrate. I should undo that." Michael distracted him from that when he said, "You must let Alex go." Michael had attempted another intense imperative. It would not sound. It would be hours before he could call the gift to service again. "All I must do is...well...have fun." Lucifer said.

Bound, Michael was helpless to aid Alex against Noma's change of heart. Lucifer instructed his newest coerced follower, "Noma, keep Alex here. I will harvest him next, but let him see how I take everything from his mentor. He can watch Michael diminish. Let him see his future."

"Yes, my Lord and Master," replied Noma. Lucifer roughly tore Michael's shirt to expose his chest to receive the dagger. He harshly shoved Michael's head to the side and against the stone wall behind him, and moved in closely. Through his teeth Lucifer hissed his words, poured his hateful longing, "I have waited eternities for this." Michael responded with compassion, "I know, brother."

Lucifer asked, "How do I take you, 'most like unto God'?" He said, mocking Michael's exalted standing while releasing his hold on Michael's head. Michael instructed Lucifer. "First deploy the dagger to take only essence. Only that, Lucifer. You must partake of the essence: drink it, inhale it, inject it, make it part of you. It will reinforce you and prepare you to receive my genetics…Father's genetics."

"So that was my error…taking the blood of your heart first?" Lucifer observed.

"Yes. That was an error." Michael's response was filled with the depth of understatement. He quickly recalled how millennia ago, he had been within The Pearl Gates and was enjoying a moment of relaxation after a difficult smiting campaign. He was weary and had spent some time in the meditation gardens.

He'd walked to the massage bungalow to have the kinks worked out. He was lying face down on the table awaiting the arrival of Raphael who'd stepped away to get some essential oils to help relax his brother. There, Michael was beset unawares. Lucifer pinned his wings then and there permitting Lucifer and his helpers to seize Michael and take him to a hidden place. Michael knew not where.

Lucifer had secured Michael to a stone table and activated The Exaltor directly into his heart …both blades. Their taking was unbound as the device was opened and drew him directly into a chalice. He recalled he'd screamed when the device began to siphon and that had summoned Father. Lucifer had not taken him from the Silver City and with Father present, no dampening could conceal such an act.

Lucifer had collected Michael's blood genetics simultaneously to the taking of it. He managed to consume some before Father ended the abduction and theft. The perpetrators of this violence upon Michael were dimensionally delivered into detention before judgment would be passed. Lucifer's unconcealable change toward insanity became evident shortly afterward, but Father refused to imprison him permanently. Instead He offered Lucifer several distasteful duties as acts of redemption.

Raphael was sent to tend Michael. She'd healed him physically, but in his heart of hearts, Michael continued to believe the incident was so much more than an error on Lucifer's part. He felt he had not been astute enough and had failed to do his duty to protect the genetics within him or to protect his own brother.

After a long while, Michael, walking with Raphael asked about Lucifer, "Has he pursued any of the acts of Father's offering to earn forgiveness?" Raphael said, "Michael, he is lost to us. I have tried to reach him, but he is more unmanageable than ever he was. I fear for his future." Michael felt as if he'd been crushed by the weight of Raphael's revelation. He couldn't speak of his failure, his shame. He turned to leave Raphael's company because of his burden. Raphael called after him, "It is not your fault, brother. You are not to blame for the crime against you."

Michael never heard the words, he'd dimensionally bended to a place that was not a place. A place between the places between creation. He'd discovered them by accident when working with sigils and emblems and power frequencies. He had made of one a retreat. He needed it now.

That was not the beginning of Lucifer's wrong doings but, after taking Michael's blood genetics, they would worsen as time passed. Time and time again Lucifer was given duty which would redeem him but he did not undertake any of them. Then there was the proverbial last straw. When Lucifer accosted Father's children of Eden, Michael and his siblings had to deal the punishment, as Father could not do what was necessary.

He delegated the action to his sons. It was particularly difficult on Michael, as he felt responsible for Lucifer's situation. He did as Father asked, cast Lucifer out and delivered Father's Wrath, but he did not burn Lucifer's body. He buried him, with honor. He felt it was the least he could do, for the brother he failed, the brother he loved.

For all that time, Lucifer's madness had tormented everything and everyone he touched. And Michael knew Lucifer suffered by that. He had failed and his brother and an entire dominion paid for that. Now it was happening again because Lucifer had found a way to undo death thanks to Michael's compassion of a burial of honor. It was time to make amends. His was an error of the greatest consequence, twice over. Now, at last he would pay the cost and correct his failure.

"Well, let us begin," gushed Lucifer. He held The Exaltor to Michael's chest above his heart and pressed the ignition jewel. Lucifer released the jeweled casing as the device could be heard to activate sending the blade deeply into Michael firing, its burrowing capillaries throughout Michael's body to seize his essence...his soul.

It was not an easy process to endure. That pleased Lucifer, who stood by rubbing his hands together as if being offered a coveted treat. The power hungry fallen archangel quired Michael of what was obvious, just so he could hear the pain in his brother's voice, "Is it drawing you out?"

Michael moaned softly from the pain of his being invaded and… taken… his essence separated from his powerful body by forces within the dagger device. Michael knew what Lucifer wanted. He strained to speak the word as clearly as he could manage, but he could not hide his distress, "Yes,". The spoken evidence of Michael's agony caused Lucifer great joy. He smiled widely until Michael spoke again.

"Withdraw the device now," Michael instructed after only a few moments, his voice hoarse with difficulty. "Why?" Lucifer said, annoyed. "It must be done in stages, Lucifer. For your sake," Michael explained. "Oh. Right, " Lucifer said, approving of the concern for his benefit. Lucifer touched the appropriate jewels which ceased the operation.

The Exaltor , having disengaged, fell from Michael and Lucifer caught it mid fall with an exaggerated flourish. With the intensity of the taking over, Michael's distress eased. Several deep breaths later, his voice, more normal, but deepened by the strain and reading of his weakened state, directed his brother, "Take the essence as you please."

Lucifer pressed another jewel at the opposite end of the device which caused an opening. Lucifer caught the essence which poured as a golden honey into a chalice. He raised the golden metal cup in a toast to his brother. Lucifer consumed the nectar of essence that was part of Michael's soul. Its purity and power caused Lucifer to glow beautifully. "Ahhh,"Lucifer exclaimed with satisfaction, " you were right , Michael. I am not disappointed. If your essence is this powerful, adding your blood will be mind blowing, yes?"

Michael's genetics were so unique that they altered anyone...it had already altered Lucifer, made him insane, unmanagable…Michael worked to control him, to convince him not to stray from the procedure using a suggestive imperative, "Lucifer, it is not yet time. Be patient. To take my genetics now would be disastrous. Do not drink of my blood out of turn. Not again. You only survived it the first time because Father stopped you in time. This will cure you if you stay the course."

"I like who I am, Michael! I don't need to be cured! I just need to be empowered." Lucifer spit his hostility at Michael. Michael was weakened so that even his suggestive imperative had not sounded. He tried to sway Lucifer by appealing to his bloodlust. "Lucifer, I beg you. You must once more take of my essence…one more chalice then you may take all. In a moment, you may spill all of my blood to gladden your heart…but not this moment."

Giggling, the quite mad, Lucifer, his ego, his madness soaring, flushed with the intoxicating power of Michael's essence infusion, started to leave the room saying, "I think I will exercise this new power I feel. " Lucifer picked up from a far table what Michael recognized with horror as Lucifer headed outside. "Lucifer, stop! Do not open that! " Michael called after him. "What is it, Michael ," Alex asked. "I've no way to know which it was, but it was a h'ors 'amin." Alex's eyes widened, "A horseman…you mean like, one of THE Horsemen… of the Apocalypse?"

"Yes. Lucifer must have acquired the vessels. Only four are known to mankind as Horsemen of the Apocalypse. There are more and they're not literally horsemen…they're h'ors 'amin. It is a phrase from a language before my time began meaning 'prisons of doom'. They are like the amphorae, but older.

They were made by Father to contain unthinkable forces that He had made when working to build creation…'creation instruments', many of which had singular purpose and some which failed to serve, so , some say… god errors… they were never to be utilized by any but Father," Michael explained. "They can only be opened with Father's bio-signature. Lucifer has some of that now." Noma laughed. Alex just shook his head in disbelief saying, "Huh. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse."

Alex tried again to end Michael's reform- of -Lucifer project. "Look, Michael, I don't think this… process… is the way to deal with Lucifer. It can't be good. For one thing, what is it doing to you? Secondly, and I can't say this strongly enough, this world will be so screwed with a God-like Lucifer. How can that possibly be right?"

"Alex, this will not only give him God-like power," Michael explained, " It will transform him. He will become the Light and Creation power Lucifer was intended to be before he… went astray. Father's genetics as they are blended with mine will alter him.

He will be Lucifer, healed, and he will be a being as Father. I house the genetics of Father and his essence and I am also repository of his knowledge. When I impart them, Lucifer will also BE Father…a duplicate, an identical entity." Alex's mouth fell agape at the realization "…Oh, my G…a clone of the Almighty!? You're going to make a Lucifer infested clone of God? Wait… a God Dyad?! No, no, no, no!"

"More than that, Alex." Suddenly, Michael began to realize something that had never occurred to him before. His voice trailed off with his deep thought as he said, "He will become the first of his kind..." He stopped when the meanings became apparent to him. He did not wish to continue the conversation. It may already be too late. Alex might make the connection now.

"Holy Shit! Has God made a plan to one up himself? Oh, man! OK… but what about you, Michael?" Alex wanted to know. "Does any part of you make it out of this as…you."

Michael shook his head and looked down wishing he could take back what he'd explained… annoyed with himself for not having realized before now, what Alex was already piecing together. He should have known…but Alex shouldn't know this. "I will diminish," Michael said flatly, using Lucifer's polite word. It was a suitable description of what would actually happen to him. He did not want to elaborate.

"Yes, I heard that but what does that mean?" Alex pressed.

"My essence and genetics will be absorbed as part of that which is the new Lucifer." Michael thought that didn't give any more away than had already slipped into play.

The chamber became quiet as the gravity of the happenings absorbed to those who heard it. Noma was in approval that her Lord and Master would become God. She smiled and nodded. Alex's realization registered in his expression. He'd understood the thing Michael feared he might. "Damn." Michael whispered, seeing that Alex had figured it out.

"You're the key, Michael, aren't you?! You're the key that makes it all work. So that God's genetics mixed with you added to Lucifer is not a possessed... or fused like a Dyad…it's… a creation…an evolution. Your genetics makes the bridge for a new creation. You are the key to the leap forward!"

Alex was not so approving…he wanted Michael to remain Michael. "Michael, the Universes don't need another God…they certainly don't need another _**kind**_ of God," Alex said emphatically. "They do need you. You, they need, Michael. Stop this, please."

"Alex, you don't understand. Father is…gone. He is beyond The Veil… in a place which requires his attention. He cannot be there and here. I am able to change that. I have a way to bring back his order, permit his expansion to bring his Light to more than this part of creation.

By this, I also end, Lucifer's pain…a pain I caused. I am ending this destruction Lucifer's insanity perpetuates…an insanity I caused. I am ending the threat I am to all things by what I carry as I am… and in so doing, giving rise to a new creation of Father's making… and a world…your world, safe and at peace. Am I, as I am, so much to exchange for all of that?"

"Yes! Yes, you are, Michael." Alex insisted. He thought intensely , with deep respect for his guardian and said to him, "If your Father were here, I believe He would be… so proud of you, Michael… but even to expand his creations and bring this…God evolution, He wouldn't want you to go."

Michael heard Alex and understood his intention. He reacted with furrowed brow and swallowed hard, knowing the depth of emotion the young Chosen One felt at the idea of witnessing his ending this way. He regretted Alex had to be here to experience the trauma. However, if it were not for the threat to Alex, he may not have chosen this course of action and more destruction would ravage the world from Lucifer's acts of madness.

It was time to stop Lucifer and give Father more freedom. Michael knew this was the only way now. He would not tell Alex he was catalyst, the reason, for the course of action he took. He would not burden the boy with that.

Outside the church of Mallory, Lucifer turned the key to the h'ors 'amin and called out to the vapor escaping, "Earth- eater, take your fill, as I will take mine!" Lucifer laughed with delight at the destruction he'd released. Then he swept back into the church to continue his 'self –improvement'. As he reentered the chamber, Michael asked, "Lucifer, what have you unleashed?" Lucifer answered off-handedly, "Just a bit of landscaping."

"You released the Earth-eater? You would have the world you seek to rule consumed? "Michael said in disbelief. Lucifer was more insane than he'd known.

"I seek more than this feeble world. It is meaningless to me now, how much of it remains," Lucifer said matter –of- factly. Then he returned to Michael carrying The Exaltor daggar device and held it at his brother's chest. Seethingly, he threw his words at Michael, "Now, I will open your heart and consume you to see what it is Father loves so."

Enforced by Michael's powerful essence, Lucifer's insanity had continued to fire more evident. Again, Michael tried to use his power of imperative to stop him, but he could not access it. He did his best to convince his brother to see reason, "Lucifer, you are moments from being as Father, help me to help you become all you desire."

Glowing, and flushed with Michael's great power Lucifer said, "Do not assume you can tell me what I need to fulfill my own desire. What I need is your power and you…gone." Lucifer pressed the ignition jewel on the side of the dagger's casing twice, which split the dagger into two blades as it fired deep within Michael's chest, permitting it to cut into Michael's heart to siphon the power of his blood genetics .

Michael groaned with the sharp pain of the dual blades firing open in his chest. Both his blood and essence were drawn violently from Michael via the dagger's unbound taking. The dual taking was so intense Michael could not subdue a scream but he did abbreviate it as best he could. Not to throttle Lucifer's pleasure, but to ease Alex's distress. Fortunately, Lucifer was anxious to have Michael's power and he stopped the collection within moments… before it drew Michael to another scream.

Lucifer poured the siphoned elixir in the large chalice. Then he fired the dual blades to their mission once again. Michael's pain was so extreme, though he screamed, he made no sound. His voice gathered to gasps and moans as his life spilled to no good purpose. Lucifer's greed fed madness had corrupted Michael's enormous sacrifice and the beauty of its extraordinary offering.

In continued obvious distress from the process, Michael managed to shake his head at the enormity, not of Lucifer's misguided choice, but of his own misjudgment. With the strain of difficulty Michael said to Lucifer, "I have failed you brother. I only fed your insanity and greed. Your greatness was at hand, but for it. I have made of hope, an end of all things ."

Lucifer finished another chalice of his brother's power "Whoo! That's electrifing. Michael I had no idea! I didn't give you enough credit, brother." Michael was paled from loss of his life essences. Diminished, the mighty Archangel, with a soft moan of surrender, slipped into unconscious.

Alex screamed at Lucifer , "Stop you bastard!" Lucifer snickered at the idea, "Oh, not at all…the one thing I'm not… is a bastard. I have a Father…though he wishes I didn't. But we were having such fun, why bring HIM up?" Lucifer waited as The Exaltor filled adequately again.

Alex could abide no more as he watched the powerful archangel's life ebb for no reason at all. His anger mounted and at last, his own power had recovered enough to fire a blast. It was sufficient to render both The Darkness fortified, Noma and the essence and blood powered Lucifer, unconscious. Instead of subsiding, Alex's power had become more enormous with each fulfillment of purpose as the Chosen One.

Alex took a key from Lucifer's table and hurriedly freed the shackled Michael. Alex eased his way to collapse on the stone flooring. He pressed the button on the casing to end the devices work and close the blades. He gave it a moment as he heard it retract its soul reaping tendrils and as it loosed from Michael's chest, he threw it aside like the vile, monstrous thing he believed it was. He intended to destroy it when his power recovered.

He looked upon his stilled and paled mentor, this extraordinary individual whom he had known all of his life, but who he now realized was literally beyond comprehension to him. Alex knelt beside Michael. He saw Michael barely breathed. A tear began to form , borne of all of the emotions that crashed at Alex, including frustration.

If only he had a way to reach Raphael, maybe she could help. All of the damn power in this little room and he felt helpless. What use was it all? All Alex could do was plead, "Michael, please don't go. Fight!" He yelled. "You fight, Michael!"

He saw no change but continued to speak to Michael hoping to entice him back from this brink. He knew now that what he wanted Michael to know, if he was going to say it while he lived, it was now or never. He began slowly, to meter his intense emotion, "You…mean so much…to everything there is…but all I can really understand, finally, is …what you are to me. Forget, teacher, guardian… Michael, what you've really been is the father I never realized I had…and… you should know…I love you for it."

At the same time Alex said 'I love you…' the blood from the cut Noma had made on his hand mingled with the blood at Michael's chest, as he had set his hand there just then. Their blood's contact, combined with Alex's words of affection for his mentor triggered an embedded code in his markings. They glowed golden and fired , running across his body as they never had before, emitting focused wave after wave of power until a vortex of great roiling illumination flashed into being overhead.

A beautiful thread of flowing light, a powerful energy, made its way from Michael's heart to touch the horizon of the vortex, halting its tremendous rotation. The energy feedback from the stilled event horizon shocked Michael's return to consciousness – barely - so that he hazily saw the vortex horizon as it opened.

Father and Jillian's Mother came through "The Veil " door. They were beautiful… a magnificence beyond words and pure nebulae of energies in form. They were golden at their centers and silvery white in the flashing mist of their flowing nebulae. The power of their presence caused the earth to quake lightly and the air around them ignited to encircle their nebulae in fire.

Michael wanted to greet them, and tried but could not. So much power filled the little space that now, Alex was not only helpless, but speechless. Had he not already been kneeling beside Michael, he would have fallen from inability to stand. He shielded his eyes from the Almighties' luminescence. Anyone else would have been atomized by the events taking place. Alex was more special than he knew.

The Almighties' flowing progress paused. They constrained their presence further, for Alex's benefit...his comfort. Father drew to him some of his physicality to produce audible speech. He said to Alex in a deep, gentle voice that's power, even dampened, rumbled the structure around them, "Thank you, my son . Your precious and pure being, created as such and held so by your acts of valor and sacrifice concerning the burden of the markings, gave rise to this passage," He said as the event horizon, which was the door through The Veil, dissipated.

"Michael, you were successful in being thrice purified, once by your willing choice and sacrifice to protect this charge, A' lexx L'ann on." Said thusly, in the language of angels, the name 'Alex Lannon' was a phrase which meant 'For love of my children'. Michael had always pronounced Alex's first name as it was meant to be spoken, with this in mind.

"Secondly, Michael, you were purified further by the sacrifice which earned your Redemption and thirdly by your loving act of sacrifice to save and transform your brother, Lucifer. These made you, my beloved son, the key to this door. As you now know, you are the key to many things. You, my children and your acts formed our conduit home. We are pleased. All will be as it should very soon," Father finished.

Weakened to the extreme, but determined to greet his parent, and honor his mate's Mother, Michael used the last of his strength to extended his hand toward his long absent Father. He wished to address both but was only able to adoringly whisper , "Father… ". His Father, hearing the weakness and struggle in Michael's voice, took more of his physical form to bear. He signaled to his mate and said, "It is time." His beloved mate and equal mingled her power with his and together, the Almighties, by extension of Father's manifested hand reaching toward his son, touched finger tips with Michael's outreached hand.

Power surged from them to Michael. Michael gasped at the unexpected rush of power. It rendered him unconscious…and Alex, as well, by his proximity and the Almighties' intent. Thus prepared by Father's touch, the Almighties' nebulae then encompassed Michael. Holding him within their nebulaes' embrace, they replenished him of all he had lost, healing him… and much more.

Michael had been a single breath from death and had only intended to touch his Father once more before he expired. But Father was not ready for Michael to be over. It was possible He would never be. Father and his Other gave Michael rejuvenation. Their combined knowledge and abilities gave him even more. When they completed their work, they moved away from Michael.

Though he was not conscious, Father said in such a way that Michael and the unconscious Alex still heard him, "Michael, my dearest son, you were and are the gift I never expected. Now, you are a gift to us both. When you waken it will be as our true son…and a greater gift than ever you were . You now have access to all you previously could only impart.

You will grow to be the New Creation gradually…as Jillian, your mate grows to her potential…as your child will. It almost looked as if a soft smile dressed Michael's face as he slept in recovery of a rebirth. The great deities departed in a flash of dimensional travel. Alex woke immediately but was stunned by being witness to Michael's rebirth as Heir to the Almighties.

Lucifer came to exactly then. Having heard his Father's voice for the first time in eons, Lucifer called to him, "Father, Father wait, wait for me. What of me? Father, please!" He called pitifully after his Father. With Father's lack of response, Lucifer became furious …a kind of fury even Lucifer had never known…Michael's genetics had altered him further and even if that aspect were not so, he couldn't meter both his and Michael's Darkness. He wheeled on Alex and Michael, " You, you kept me from him!" He accused the unconscious Michael and the stunned Alex.

The stolen power of Michael could be heard in the force of Lucifer's voice. It sounded in a blend of Lucifer's voice and Michael's. He had stolen that much of Michael. Lucifer could no longer remain seated corporeally. He phased by token of his power overload between essence and his forms, all of them, including Michael's.

He managed to get control and settled as his corporeal self, yet he glowed with Michael's power. Using his mental powers, he drew to him the dagger Alex had thrown free of Michael and moved toward Alex and Michael with lethal intent. He didn't walk. He moved in stations of materialization, locally dimensionally jumping.

Alex was recovering from the ordeal as conduit and his proximity to the Almighties and witnessing Michael's rebirth process. Though he tried, he could not act. He sat with his back against the stone wall. Michael remained unconscious. They were vulnerable to Lucifer's attack. With a flurry of golden wing and light of presence as well as the flash of dimensional bending, Jillian entered the room to stand between them and Lucifer. "Stop, Damned of Heaven! " She demanded. Lucifer paused his advance to face her, annoyed by her presence and the tired title.

Michael began to stir and softly groaned as if awakening from a peaceful rest beside Jillian, whose presence he sensed. He sighed pleasantly when his eyes beheld her. He saw Alex and smiled, pleased that he'd been present at his rebirth. Then he saw Lucifer. Lucifer was flushed with the power of all that was gleaned from Michael…and the accompanying madness. Lucifer spoke to Jillian.

Savagely, he spit his words at her, "Flee while you may unbound human affliction or become the stain that you are." Michael flashed to fury and attempted to rise at the threat to Jillian, but could not. Alex was seated , but being the stronger of the two at the moment, helped Michael to lean partially against the wall, partially against himself . Both were physically unable to assist Jillian.

The only way Michael could help was by arming her with information. Michael gave Jillian what she required of what had transpired via his thoughts. Jillian received the events and their backstories and gleaned more than Michael's own interpretations as she filtered them in her mind's eye.

"Lucifer, Bringer of Light, Samael ." Jillian addressed Lucifer. Lucifer listened , calmed briefly by the ringing sound of his original name, Samael, and Jillian's gentle but gripping imperative speech, a gift she received of her blending with Michael. She gathered even more information from her observations.

Then Jillian spoke again to Lucifer calmly, directly and with some compassion, "You fancy your light is your own. I understand that now you feel and you see darkness from your brother you think is abhorrent, like yours because its source is similar. You seek to use it to punish him, for your pain - to destroy him for jealousy of his Light and Power.

Even now, after he has offered and given you all that he had to give. A not inconsiderable offer, "she marveled as the knowledge made itself known . "The way to make you like unto God," Jillian glanced with wonder at Michael.

That was what she had glimpsed at his core but could never truly see…the thing hidden within his Light! That was the power, the key to how when they joined, they became creation! How utterly remarkable he was. She embraced him within her mind. He felt it and could not restrain a fleeting smile.

Jillian continued speaking to Lucifer, through her exchange with Michael, hoping for a way around what she suspected was the conclusion to this meeting. "Michael gave you the way to heal and spare you from all you are now becoming. Because of hate and greed, even now, you cannot find or see the true heart , the Light you took…a Light of being so extraordinary, Father wept for joy at his creation.

"Perhaps you do not know that for some time now, _your_ light has shown, only because you are a mirror. When you faced Michael…it was his light you reflected and none of your own. Your great light is only present now when others are before you. You reflect their light…you have no means to fire your own, well until a moment ago by what you greedily took and soon, not any longer." Jillian paused a beat as more realizations presented from what Michael had sent her.

"All those eons ago, your greed possessed you to assault your brother, Michael , to take from him what you coveted and in your resulting madness borne of your inability to harness the greatness, you disobeyed Father in a grievous way. So great was Father's love, the pain your actions caused in him manifested and you became the image of that pain, Lucifer, devoid of light. Father made it your true face. So He would never forget the reason He was forced to act.

He loved you so much He could not cast you out, but had your siblings do it. Your true image also became a reflection of their pain at doing so. And so you have many forms and many names. Your beauty is the lie, a last vestige of what you were meant to be. Lucifer, you are corrupt in your soul. You were even before you touched Michael. Yes, I see that you are riddled with envy, jealousy, hate , greed, deceit and conceit. See your face Lucifer!" She pushed the mirror in the room toward him … Lucifer cringed, "No, don't!"

"Think you not of the pain I feel?" Lucifer wailed. "Seeking to give Father a more interesting project, yes, I tampered with his simple apes…but you", he continued venomously, his glow beginning to fire red with rage, "I have found, are all so corrupt Father cast you all out! You are like me," Lucifer spat his raging hate in every word. "We are the same Golden One. I know you!"

He employed Michael's power of imperative now which he took from his brother's essence. His voice rang in a triplicate of harmony from the gift, "How easily Bry-an joined me as The Prophet. He was a natural to embrace my kind of truth...my kind of light. Michael took him from me, now I will take you as his replacement. Join me or Michael and the Chosen die along with everything else you know."

Calmly, Jillian continued, unaffected by the imperative Lucifer attempted, as she was also immune to it when Michael employed it. "Do you see the light you cast now?" Lucifer glanced at his beautiful glow. "It is Michael's. Do you believe you can sustain it?"

"I can sustain it long enough to rid myself of the pestilence that is of all of you." Lucifer threatened. "No Lucifer that Light, and its power will corrupt and fade to your purpose, leaving you again in the dark. It already tints to your vile aspiration," noticed Jillian. The light of Lucifer's glow had changed from Michael's pure golden light and had begun to have darkened areas.

Jillian resumed, " I tell you Lucifer, you do not know that which you face by your own doing, your own words. You threaten my Father, His creation, he who is my mate, he whom my mate loves as a son and all who share this dominion…" As Michael mentally gave her Lucifer's revealed scope of intent, she added, "…and beyond."

Jillian was furious, but she paused, hearing Michael who was sending her his wish that Lucifer be allowed to live. She would try, if she could hold his insanity at bay, to permit that. She wished to also alleviate Michael's sense of responsibility for what Lucifer was. Should Lucifer be ended, she did not want Michael to be left with no evidence that he was truly not to blame for Lucifer's nature.

She spoke to that end now, " I know and you know, you were not brought to this you become by accident of hapless contact with Michael's uniqueness. Still, you should know his love is such that he does not see the fault in you. He still takes all the blame for your actions, even now he bares the weight of your deeds as consequence of his failure, of the workings of his genetics in you and offers you mercy."

Michael wore an expression that told of the truth of that. It had from the day it happened, been his deepest shame that he'd not spared Lucifer the dark effects of his genetics. Alex looked at Michael, wishing he could help somehow. Then he thought of Noma and looked for her. She was not there. He wanted to go find her, help her. She'd been corrupted by The Darkness and needed his help. But he still couldn't stand up, any more than Michael could.

Jillian continued, "Be honest, Lucifer, you chose to surrender to your own darkness, to seize and tamper with Father's creation the day you decide to usurp Michael…before you stole his genetics. That is proof of your true nature. Tell him, Lucifer, tell Michael that he is not the reason you faltered and I will count you worthy of a bid for redemptive justice. "

"No! I do not need redemption!" Lucifer ranted, pointing wildly at his recuperating brother. "Ang this, Michael, is the root of all injustice. His darkness is beyond any Father ever created. He slaughtered your kind for YEARS and enjoyed it! He slaughters angel kind now. He kills everything, yet he is admired and given graces by Father. Now I have Michael's power. Father will respect me again when He sees what I am capable of…just before I use the power of his boot licking Michael and that… freak little Savior- pet he raised… To. End. Him!"

Jillian steeled herself for combat as Lucifer ended his rant of hatred and she told him,"I see clearly now what Father and Michael love you too well to see. You are a ruined creation. You would destroy anything you infested. I name you, Lucifer… h' ors 'amin! You are a free roaming 'god error'! I hold you judged accountable for all you have perpetrated, beginning with your original attack on and theft from Michael and your tampering with humanity despite Father's command and every atrocity which followed in your wake from that time to this."

Lucifer laughed at the absurdity of her judgment. What could she do to a near god? He jabbed accusingly, "Who are you to judge me? What happened to being humble, what has become of compassion, Unbound of Father's Children?"

"I am not without compassion for you, Lucifer," Jillian replied as Lucifer continued to laugh. "It is difficult being in Father's service. "

"I serve no one!" Lucifer raged, " I refuse to serve! I rule my own actions!" Jillian paused while Lucifer asserted his independence and unwittingly condemned himself by it. When his outburst ended, she continued anew.

"So you do." She adjusted her commentary and it fascinated Lucifer that she said this, "It is difficult being in Father's eye, but it is unbearable to be unseen by him when you know He is present… ever untouched by his Loving Light. The desperation of separation from his divine affection can grow madness. You are quite mad…by your choices and by your actions, by what you took of Michael…yes…but also by your eternal separation from Father and I feel deeply pained that you have suffered such agony.

So, out of mercy, to end your pain and for the safety and protection of all in creation I hold most dear, and as consequence of your own unredeemed choices … I summon you to the peace at the end of all things. I am Jilli-an First born Daughter of She Who Is and the Great I Am and out of love for them and you, I cast you to Oblivion as gently as I may…"

Lucifer realizing he'd been lulled by her gentle intonation then actually hearing the intent, lunged forward in an attempt to attack Jillian. He flared his wings to aid in his advance , howling his fury so intensely that his true form burned through Michael's stolen light to show him in his dark and hideous forms as, screaming, he was vaporized to the end of all things … the flash of Jillian's incredible power enveloping him… making his passing swift. Lucifer was annihilated. Jillian finished her statement, with the misting remnants of Lucifer's vaporization becoming nothingness "…with a thought."

Both Michael and Alex had stood, when Lucifer lunged in attack, to come to Jillian's aid. They were on either side of her as Lucifer was obliterated. They stood stunned by her power.

Jillian took a solemn, deep breath from the unmaking effort. This was a thing the most advanced born children of the Almighties could accomplish. The Tablet of Unmaking and other weapons of heaven had been fashioned to give angels and less mature children, the means to such undertakings. Jillian knew her act of judgment and execution was a grave issue.

Just because she had the power, didn't mean she commanded the right to execute in such cases as Lucifer's. She said aloud both as a respect and a genuine plea, "If I have done wrongly, Father, I beg your forgiveness." She was shocked to hear her Father reply, "Granted, my child. May Oblivion be kinder to him than his existence. "

"Father you are here?!" She turned to Michael, "Why didn't you tell me?" Michael, thinking how could she could possibly think there hadn't been enough to deal with without adding that to the intensity of the moment, just decided to give her this pleasantry, "I thought it would be a nice surprise." Alex rolled his eyes at Michael's attempt to appease Jillian. Jillian's enthusiasm seemed only bolstered by the considerate gesture. Alex raised his eyebrows in surprise that it had worked. Michael did not change expression as he was committed to the idea of his thoughtful consideration.

"Yes daughter." Father had to conceal his amusement at what He clearly caught transpire between Michael and Jillian. "Your… _thoughtful..._ Beloved, Father's inflection alluded to Michael's sly evasion of his daughter's wrath, fully grasping the necessity of thinking on one's feet, but preferably with honesty, when it came to soothing one's mate and He continued to effuse about him honestly, "my dear Michael, and the cherished Chosen formed our conduit through "The Veil."

Michael made a bit of an 'Oh, right, Dad's home and He knows I completely curve balled that,' expression. He sent a thought to his Father, "I didn't think it vital to share that at the time Father, but forgive my attempt to gain favor by seeming more considerate than practical."

Father counselled his son, "Michael, I shall forgive you when you make amends. You should know, you do not fool Jilli-an. She realizes the practicality of the omission. Her reaction is an indication that she understands why you did it and loves you both because of your wish to please her and despite your bid to gain her favor by exaggeration of your consideration.

Just be honest, my son. Be honest in your devotion and respect for her offer of the same. Now, _**I**_ ask that you forgive my amusement at your expense." Michael smiled inwardly, "Of course, Father, always." Michael enjoyed the levity of his Father. He was very happy to have shared this moment with him, despite the gravity of the situation.

"Mother is with you, then?" Jillian quired her Father.

"I am here daughter, my Jilli-an." Her Mother announced, lovingly.

"I am over joyed! Welcome, my dear parents!" Jillian was ebullient. The Almighties reappeared in the chamber of Mallory's church in their nebulae form. Jillian's essence began to fire with her joy, making her exquisite to behold, Michael noticed. But there were serious matters to attend as Father proceeded.

Father reminded Jillian, " Jilli-an, there is consequence… for what you have done…a cost. You are aware? Moving to smite my son, first born of my angels was a grave thing… a thing I was not willing to do, even now," He admitted sadly. "The Smiting must be addressed." Jillian heard her Mother gasp.

Jillian could see via her mind's eye, her Mother gaze back at Father with an expression approximating having said, 'curb your infernal consequence, Beloved or there shall , indeed, be…consequences.' Jillian knew Mother had only just forgiven Father his binding of all of their children. She did not realize that now Father was about to engage Mother over her having done what Mother told Father should have been done eons ago to the pitiful and dangerous Lucifer.

Father turned to his mate and spoke in private to her, closing the audible communion with his children. "Beloved, you know how extraordinary Michael is becoming. This episode with Lucifer was a critical moment in Michael's development. He always said he would sacrifice himself for duty or love, but until recently, he was never challenged to do so when there was no possibility of a return available. There had to be three events for me to be certain he had crossed the threshold. Lucifer was a graduation of sorts.

While my affection played the greater part, I had to allow Lucifer to persist until Michael was mature enough in his heart to understand this part of himself and to be willing to sacrifice himself to heal his tormented brother and to serve our creation. He did so. Lucifer could have been healed, could have become all that we are and more, but he chose greed. You and I have given that inheritance to Michael now… he earned that by using all he has learned.

She Who Is addressed The Great I Am, "Beloved, I am so pleased that we now share the remarkable son of your making together. I love him dearly. I understand the necessity of Michael's education and share your devotion to it, but Jilli-an should not pay for elimination of such a one as Lucifer. I feel compassion for him, but more for all that he threatened. He played his part, fulfilled his purpose and that is enough homage to his being. Let Jilli-an be at peace in the justice she served with genuine compassion."

"I do not doubt Jilli-an's sense of justice or her compassion. Jilli-an's judgement was sound. She was right to unmake Lucifer. It was intended that she do so if Lucifer chose the way of darkness at his time of vital choice. He was my first attempt at making my children, my dear.

There were deviations in my intention for Lucifer, serious ones. But Lucifer was my creation which I loved and he did serve his part in my plan. That is to be respected. He was given every opportunity to carry on well after his intended duty. He failed his final test and has paid its consequence. Yet, Jilli-an must continue to learn as well, so that she grows ever more wise.

This is not about Lucifer any longer. It is about Jilli-an." Jillian heard her Father's great rumble as He continued his private conversation. Father said to her Mother, "Now, Beloved, allow me to accomplish my duty as a loving Father. As her loving Mother, I know you will soothe her and guide her if my lesson is too disagreeable.

Between us we will meet the challenge that is our magnificent daughter and serve her well." There was a wonderful sent in the room. Each individual present experienced their favorite. Jillian recognized the gift of her Mother's smile.

Jillian chose this moment to speak, hoping to settle any conflict her parents may feel over her actions, "Father, Mother, I am ready to accept the consequence of my choice to render final judgment." Michael interjected, "Father, please, the fault is mine, all of it. My failure to keep from Lucifer what I was made to protect created the creature Lucifer became.

I compounded that by further failure to help him in time, resulting in a lack of options. Spare Jilli-an. Allow me to pay the price of what I was and my failure in my duty to contain it. Your judgment should rightly fall upon me."

Before Jillian could comment, Father said, "My son, you please me. I ever delight in you, Michael. And, as ever in you also my Dearest Daughter. It is Jilli-an who must have this lesson. You mistake the intent. Jilli-an's judgment was not flawed. There is no fault in her, my son, nor is there fault in you, Michael.

To smite must always warrant a high cost or we would lean on it to readily. She did use the power twice in one day. It can become…addictive. To spare you that, Jilli-an, I require you pay respectful homage to the lives you took this day and I take from you your power to smite. A rumble of great force was heard… Mother's scowl at Father…because Father then added…"for now" … and all became peaceful and calm and there was again the marvelous fragrance of her Mother's smile.

Jillian acknowledged the judgement of consequence, "Yes, Father, I understand." Being aware of the lives she took with her power was an important lesson and Father was right in expecting her to take the time to consider that. As a beginning of that homage, she said to him, " Father, I am sorry for your pain of loss and yours, Michael. I know how you both loved Lucifer. I shall arrange a family memorial for him." Michael asked, his brow furrowed with emotion, "And for Uriel? May I memorialize her, Father?"

"Your Mother and I will see to Uriel, Michael," Father said. "Memorial is not required, as she is in the Outer Sphere and not Oblivion. Let your heart be at ease. She has much to account for and will need time to readjust her perceptions and consider her choices. All who have perished in my absence are in the Outer Sphere and will be attended. "

Jillian was pleased to hear the news of Uriel. Even more so because she could see Michael was visibly relieved, as a great weight of guilt and grief had been lifted. She smiled and bowed her head in respect of her Father and joy for her mate as she heard him say, "I am grateful she has you, Father, Mother. I am grateful, we have you. "

"Thank you , my children, for this momentous day and all that you are to Me…Father was distracted momentarily, and Michael and Jillian could hear a whisper by Mother "Yes, of course…. and to your Mother." About to take their leave, Father punctuated the conversation with, "We have much to attend." Just then, Gabriel and Raphael rushed in, breathless from their hurry.

They heard the last of the communication. " You must all manage this. Michael, Jillian, Alex, apprise Gabriel and Raphael. Each of you utilize your gifts to end this conflict and begin healing as soon as possible. It is our will.

You shall announce to all that heaven and earth shall be home again to your Father and Mother…" Gabriel and Raphael exchanged questioning glances with Gabriel mouthing to Raphael, 'Mother?' "…and we intend heaven and earth to be home to all, angel kind, human kind… and those to come," Father said, thinking of the impending birth of Michael and Jillian's child.

"Your will be done," said everyone in the room…except Alex who was still stunned to silence…and Noma who had long ago fled, unseen, at the first appearance of the vortex, to a place unknown. Had she stayed, she might have been healed of The Darkness by the Almighties, by Jillian or Raphael, all of whom had knowledge of the skill, but The Darkness makes its own demands.

Gabriel, Raphael and Jillian flew out of the Mallory church along with Michael , who held the h'ors 'amin vessel. The archangels and Jillian triangulated their combined forces and Jillian threw an energy blast that surrounded the h'ors 'amin cloud and forced it back into the range of its vessel. Michael turned the key re-capturing the raging power in its prison.

It had done great damage in its brief time of work. Enormous swaths of land were ravaged or gone entirely. Raphael patched and shored-up what she could and began healing the most wounded of creation, of creature and man and angel. Michael and Jillian managed logistics. They were busy organizing and delegating duties, seeing to supply requirements, arranging for communication and cooperation and building foundations for the rebuilding of this dominion.

Gabriel heralded the world of the return of the Almighties, of the demise of Lucifer and commanded healing and cooperation and end to the boundaries of separation among Father's children…all of them. To that end, Alex stood outside of the Mallory church, in front of the Statue of Worshiping Man, still sentinel to the holy fire surrounding it. He was ready to engage a globally encompassing mass eviction. The people of Mallory had begun returning to their homes and were witness to Alex's part in the salvation of the possessed.

Alex stood shirtless to free the workings of the language. He unfurled his great white wings as the markings flowed by his command. They ignited a blast of evicting power that flashed across the planet ending in a second flash at Mallory. With the flash of completion, there would be no more possessed. All lower angels and demoted higher angels who strove for it by their contributions, would have their own bodies.

The people of Mallory closed in on the Savior, wishing to be close to his divinity and to honor his service. They celebrated him and the return of the Almighties, raising a joyful noise. They served Alex food and drink to refresh him from his efforts and wished to pamper him.

He said to them, "Thank you for your kindness. There is far too little time of joy in this world. While this is one, I have a lot left to do to make us secure. Raphael flew in to land beside him at that moment. "Thank you all," Alex said to the humble town, " we have to go now."

"For Heaven and Earth,"The small community said in unison as the two supernaturals flew away…they didn't yell it…they said it with reverence. Everyone, everywhere knew they stood on the cusp. It was a new world they would all wake to tomorrow, with new challenges and new hopes.


	20. Chapter 20

Salvation

Chapter 20

Legacy

Alex looked baffled as they approached western Nevada. He strained to see the massive buildings and the walls of his home city. Vega had stood before he was taken forcibly to Mallory by Lucifer…and Noma. Raphael was with Alex and explained that Jillian had to smite the city. There had been too many of Lucifer's forces entrenched to avoid it. He'd known that was a possibility, but the reality of it was hard to process.

He was exhausted by the long night and day's events. He'd made it back to his home place via private Angel Air… his own wing power. That was fairly awesome, he had to admit. Raphael had completed a first round of her work and returned to Mallory to escort him home. She had accompanied him to give pointers on flight. He was glad for her help and her company as he witnessed the devastation of Armageddon.

Alex stared at the rubble on the Plains of Nevada. There was no Vega left, save the tunnels. People had already cleared some of them out and set up housekeeping in them. Most people camped in the surrounding ruins in the area. Angels, ordered by Michael and Jillian brought food in from parts far and wide to feed everyone.

Raphael was presented as her feminine self, as it seemed was the case most of the time now, and had left Alex to his thoughts. Alex had noted that she was now busy healing the most critically wounded surrounding what was Vega. He was exhausted beyond tired and so retired to his cavern. He left the former residents of Vega and those who had met Armageddon on these plains to their meals and ponderings and stories and healing.

Thoughts of Noma were foremost in his mind. She was not herself and she was with child. His child. Was that true or had Lucifer made that up to entice him? His head swam with all that filled it. As he mindlessly situated himself in his little cave's comforts, he tried to think where she would go. He had no idea. It made him wonder at how little he really knew her, that he wouldn't know her safe place. He was dinged up from the ordeals of battle and dabbed at a few cuts with cotton balls soaked in alcohol…Scotch whisky kind of alcohol.

Finally, he threw down the cotton ball in exasperation and just drank from the bottle, wanting to get the whole of himself numb. 'God' had been in the room with him chatting …called him his son. God. …and Mrs. God. Alex sneered and shook his head in disbelief at the recollection. Was God _**actually**_ his Father? How did that add up? His head hurt. He drank more whisky. There was a small voice at the door he'd made to the room sized cavern and a knock of sorts against it. "Who is it?" Alex went to high alert. "Alex , it's Pete." Alex hurried to the entrance. "Pete, man, how did you find me? Alex asked excited to see his friend.

Alex had saved him from possession once before and they'd become friends that day but he'd been re-inhabited when Julian used him as a vessel for another of his army of the possessed in New Delphi. You made friends….and enemies… fast in this world. Alex briefly wondered if New Delphi still stood. Pete began to kneel before Alex as he explained that, "Everyone knew where the Chosen One sheltered." Alex stopped his act of honor and bade him stand by shaking his head in a 'don't you dare' kind of way.

Pete caught the meaning and instead of kneeling, the two laughed and embraced their greeting. "Alex, dude, thank you. Word of what you did has spread everywhere. There are makeshift shrines to you in every camp site out there. They're singing songs about you…it's kind of… weird, actually…now that I think about it."

"Tell me about it," Alex said. I didn't do what happened out there alone, Pete. Michael was the driving force in every way and the key to ….more than you know," Alex said as he remembered who and what Michael had become . Alex just let it go at that. He wasn't about to try to explain the earlier happenings. Then he remembered, somewhat amazed and out loud, "Michael has a wife….a….a mate! The Golden One, Jillian. Huh." Pete just stared as Alex spoke. Then he said, "Well, why shouldn't he? He's a pretty amazing kind of guy, from what I keep hearing out there."

"Yeah." Alex wanted to say, 'you have NO idea' as he recalled that he'd witnessed Michael's rebirth as son and heir of the Almighties, but he just said, "He really is and yeah, why not?!" Alex went from amazed and dazed at the idea to being really happy for Michael. He thought the Golden One was extraordinary enough to be a good match for his mentor.

Alex decided he would remember to congratulate them when next they met. Did you do that among angels...or whatever Jillian was… some kind of child of Gods'? It was all very confusing. Where was that whisky? He didn't know what proper acknowledgment for angel pair bonding was. But you did honor that joyful union among those who were family. That's what Michael was… family. He left his thoughts of Michael to focus on Pete. He was genuinely happy to see him.

He slapped Pete on the shoulder and poured him a splash of whisky. "Here's to making it to the other side," Alex said raising his glass. "Cheers to the other side," Pete said, making a face as he said it because it was not the same meaning. Both young men just shook their heads and laughed. "Sit, Pete. Stay a while," Alex invited.

Just then the radio squawked. "Alex?" It squawked again…they could hear Gabriel mumble, "Wretched piece of electro- mechanical crap…. " Then through the ensuing static and tapping as Gabriel shook and cracked the defenseless radio against a table seeking to render it as useless as he already thought it, they heard him say something about Michael… and a meeting now…campsite #3.

"Let's make it another time," Pete said, understanding Alex had to go. You did go, when archangels called a meeting. Pete was pretty certain of that. "For sure, Pete," Alex agreed. Pete set his glass down and as he left, Alex called after him, "Be careful out there, buddy." Pete turned to face Alex, with a serious expression. "Thanks again, for everything, Alex. You saved us all." Alex just stood opposite his friend and for the first time really felt the true gravity of what he'd accomplished. With a humble acceptance of Pete's gratitude, Alex just smiled weakly and nodded. Pete turned and left the presence of the Savior.

xxxx

Two hours later, the meeting having ended, Alex returned to his…home. That is what the cavern was now. He was glad it was a favorite place already. It comforted him to be here. His mind was spinning again from all that had been done…from all that had to be done judging from what the meeting had covered. He'd just tromped through the wasteland outside that used to be Vega. He'd hated the place and had often wished its demise, but never like this.

He was immersed in troubled thoughts. The sheer number of lives this day had cost weighed on him. The supernatural phenomena he'd been part of…was mind boggling. What did all of it mean? He reached for the Scotch whisky again. That was something he understood. Alex flopped onto his bed with the bottle of the only answers he was going to get tonight. He proceeded to resume his earlier numbing project.

Suddenly he heard wings flutter. He reached for a weapon but before he dove to the floor to fire at the door, he saw that it was Raphael. She stood at the cave entrance with the door open. She held up what she hoped would be her pass to enter… a bottle of 30 year old whisky. Well, she had good taste. He signaled her to enter with a half wave of his hand. Alex sat back onto the edge of his bed. Raphael did not take the chair beside it, but sat next to Alex and seeing his wounds and bruises touched his cheek. Her light of healing flashed and took away all of his dings. "Thanks," Alex said with a little smile as he stared at the floor.

He didn't quite look at Raphael. She was… difficult for him. She stirred feelings in him that were confusing. Her delicate, feminine classical features were arranged in a beauty that was incomparably perfect, and unsettling because of their perfection. And…well… it was damned unsettling that she shimmered and was sometimes not… _ **her**_.

But her golden complexion, long black hair and liquid silvery eyes so full of every emotion, her compassionate touch that healed and soothed were so inviting. When she was, she, her intoxicating musical voice was captivating to him. He was glad they had not had cause for her to speak. He didn't want to be captivated. He just wanted to be numb.

He did so need comfort and to not think about anything. He was just glad to be… alive. He was too emotionally wrecked to want beyond that. His mind drifted to Noma, their child. His concern shown in his face. Raphael sensed she was not who he wished was here, in spite of Alex's obvious fascination for her and so she stood to leave, having never spoken.

She set the bottle down beside him, as it was a gift and smiled at the face of his distraction. As she turned to go, Alex recovered from his distracted state and reached out to take her exquisite hand. His voice was thick with his desire…a desire he was not even aware existed until he spoke… "Stay," he said. His expression was so honest in its need, so pure in his wish for her to remain, that she did.

Alex stood and reached for the golden buckles of her leather armor. He asked with his eyes if she wished him to proceed. She loosed the armor for him and Alex undressed her, slowly revealing all of her perfection. In the candle light of his cavern, her softly golden skin glistened like the precious creature she was . Even the rock of the walls around her which glinted in the candlelight with flecks of every kind of crystalline beauty seemed to fire to greater brilliance, refracting in compliment to her glisten and making Raphael all the more radiant.

Her thick black hair cascaded to her mid back and the locks waved softly forward of her shoulders covering her breasts from sight. Alex reached for her and as if unwrapping a longed for gift, brushed the thick silky opacity aside. He looked at her perfect round nipples crowning the mount of her firm breasts. His face wore an expression similar to one witnessing a wonder as he looked down past the smoothly muscled abdomen with its gently curving waist to the curve of her hips, to the full, soft hair announcing the seat of her body's passion. He looked along her sleek, long legs . She was the image of everything beautiful, the embodiment of everything gentle. He was lost in the sight of her.

Raphael's compassionate warmth was everything Alex needed, her beauty distanced him entirely from the ugliness he had experienced outside and settled him from the incomprehensible he'd witnessed earlier. He was free …free of doubt, free of the confines of a world gone mad. Free of being Savior. He loosed his clothing and together they slipped them from him. Raphael regarded the markings of his body, not as most did… not as the hallowed writings of her Father. She saw them as part of a completely stunning man. She saw a script of the strength of Alex's mind, soul and body.

She touched Alex for the first time as a woman, not a supernatural, not as a healer, not as a comrade in arms. She reached for, not a marking, not the evidence of his arousal… this would not be an act of lustful escape for her. Her hand to chest, over his pure heart, she felt the raised marking there and studied its beauty with her fingertips, never looking away from his crystal blue eyes. Then she lightly pressed her lips to his. It was a respectful, loving act of hopeful passion, of a woman's devotion to a man.

Alex was shocked to stillness by her kiss. He felt it meant something…something more than 'let's hook up and bang our minds to numbness'. But he just couldn't think. He couldn't move. His mind felt scrambled. He'd even forgotten to breathe, so he kind of just gasped a breath. Raphael smiled softly, almost shyly. She knew he'd felt more than a kiss, but she didn't know what his reaction meant, exactly. Raphael guided him to step away from his shed clothing toward her…free of the soldier's uniform and of their duty, as well.

Alex and Raphael fell together onto the bed. Alex thought it would be a delicious, hot distraction. The way it so often was with Noma. The way it had been, even with Claire and their forbidden fruit kind of excitement. That was what he wanted…what he thought he needed. He thought they would drink too much and laugh and grope at one another hungrily until passions rose enough, just long enough to forget the day's troubles and fall asleep… unalone.

He found he craved Raphael's gentle power. She poured it into him with her every kiss and caress. And Alex found instead of just steamy, lusty sex, he wished to lavish her in his own pure heart. And so he loved her with a depth he had not expected. In a way he had not known before. He caressed her with hands of wonder, kissed her lips with a revelation of devotion, became one with her in a divine passion of sharing, giving, complete…love.

Raphael loved him. From the moment she saw him, she loved him. Yes, she was drawn to his wavy blond hair and athletic strength of body and stunning crystal blue eyes … but she saw how he fought with a power only intense purity could feed… to reach Michael ,to help him…she saw that and was his. In that moment of his act of selfless love for his guardian, she was captured by the inner beauty of him which fired his depth of caring devotion.

He'd even gotten Michael to be more openly expressive of affection…no small thing. Lucifer had coveted Alex's purity of heart for its power and all it could give him. In Alex, she found a kindred spirit and was drawn to him, like a moth to flame. She knew she was drawn to him. She found evidence in that she tended to stay female the majority of time around him. It was an autonomic response of her being's desire to meet his preference.

If all she was to him now was a moment of comfort, she would be grateful for the sharing. She had lusted before in many ways with many people and angels, many men and women. She understood lust. She thought she understood love. She had thought she loved truly a few times, but realized now, there was always something she wanted from the others or that they wanted of her beyond their passion and devotion.

Not with Alex. She wanted only to be who she was with him. She loved him with a wish to give to him what he required. She loved him enough to bear the pain of her heart if to walk away was all that was left of them at the end of this night. Alex felt her love in a very different way from Noma or Claire. He felt the purity of it and yes, the intensity of it was there, but there was a lack of things that seemed to make all the difference. There was no duty involved, no expectation, no other personal requirement.

It was the freedom of equals giving and taking on an equal plane. He was amazed at how they…flowed effortlessly. He wanted to give her all she desired, what she needed, and it made him, not just gratified but… happy, joyful. Even now. What he had approached as merely raw desire was, in fact, much more. They shared their passion long after the candle's flame failed. Then they fell asleep holding one another as newly found treasure…each cradled in love.

Neither of them were aware that Noma had watched them from the shadows of the cave's slightly ajar door. She watched as the candle flickered out, seething with a jealous obsession fed by "The Darkness". Noma slipped away before daybreak. That morning Alex woke first and made coffee. The fragrant beverage awakened Raphael. She smiled at him from under the covers looking for all the world like a mischievous kitten.

Alex joined her in the bed. She turned to him and they kissed, nestled together. "What do you suppose this day holds," Alex asked as he embraced her. "All that Father requires, " Raphael responded. "Does He tell you…everything?" Alex asked. "No, she said laughingly. Only what is required of me. Usually, it is a generality that I fulfill as I see fit in his behalf and according to the best of my ability."

"So you have some leeway?" Alex asked. "Not as much as humanity, but, in my case, much more than most angels," Raphael explained. "I think much will change now that He has returned." She added. "How?" Alex asked. "Oh, there will be much more guidance, more order, more duty, more accountability, more accomplishment," Raphael finished. "Ah,'the Boss is in', kind of thing, huh?" Alex observed. "In effect, yes," Raphael smiled but there was some worry to her expression. She knew better than he what it could mean.

Alex's radio squawked to life. It was Michael. "Alex, where may I find you?" Alex lied, "I'm on my way to Campsite #3 Michael. I'll be there in 15 minutes." Michael called him on his falsification, "I don't see your vehicle, Alex nor are you on wing." Alex grimaced, "I hate when he does that." Raphael teased, "Sounds like your 'boss is in'." Alex nodded, "Yeah." He kissed her, dressed and left hurriedly. "Meet me here tonight , if you can, Raphael." He said as he left her while she dressed. He had not left so soon that Michael wasn't prompting him again, though. "Alex, are you en route to Campsite #3…yet." Alex's annoyed response followed and trailed off as he left hearing range,"Yesss, Michael, I am on the way…"

Jillian had her arms around Michael's waist from behind and turned him toward her to kiss him. Through her kiss she spoke, "You are a tyrant, my love." Michael kissed her lips softly and responded shaking his head as he left Jillian's arms and returned to the door to look again for Alex, "The boy requires discipline."

"Dearest, 'The boy' helped save the world and bring Father and Mother home. Discipline is his to command as he sees fit at this stage." Jillian counseled her stern mate.

"Shall I allow him to develop conceit, then?" Michael asked seriously as he wheeled away from his scan of the plain below. Jillian sighed, "Oh, heaven forbid he should have a moment to bask in glory," she teased. She folded her arms and gave him a condescending look as she repeated her previous assessment, "Tyrant".

Michael offered his reserved version of an eye roll at his mate's criticism. He smiled at being reminded of his own stuffiness, took Jillian in a loving, decidedly unstuffy, purposeful and passionate kiss. The kiss and subsequent caress to her cheek were meant to temper his desire, their desire, until he could kiss her again, and again. He stared deeply into her eyes for a moment punctuating his complete devotion to her. Then he stepped away, walked to the cliff edge and in a perfect swan dive from the precipice, flew from their comfortable cavern/ tent high in the inaccessible- by- any- means- but- flight nearby hills west of Vega. Jillian watched his flight from their cavern's entry. He was beautiful and his beauty in her heart shown in the light of her eyes as she watched him go.

As he flew to his duties, Michael thought of Jillian standing regal and splendid within their cavern as she chastised him lovingly. Michael had formed their cavern by etching the space out of the stone, carving it easily with his wings. It was spacious enough to serve but not so spacious as to be a threat to the landscape's stability. Jillian had appointed the interior in a pleasing way with remnants from the debris that was Vega. He would be glad to return to their privacy there. He planned to add considerably to his parting kiss' promise.

Michael made his way to Campsite #3 to meet Alex. He waited until his frustration with Alex turned to concern. The boy never arrived. Michael searched for him but there was no trace. Michael looked tirelessly until duties and his attention were demanded elsewhere. When he could not search, Raphael or Jillian searched. Even Gabriel searched for Alex to no avail.

xxxx

Noma had been lying in wait for Alex. She overpowered him with the strength of her Darkness fed intent. She held a vial Lucifer had given her secretly the day he poisoned her, saying "Payment for your service, Noma. Gift this to whomever you choose." All that was left of Noma as she had been was that she wanted to be with Alex. She was consumed with that mission. She wanted them to be the same and so she gave him 'the gift'. She would save him from what he was…free him from his miserable Chosen One concerns. She would give him even more power than he already held.

She dropped not a single drop of the vial's contents into Alex's eye but half of the vial. She carried him away to a place she'd found in the Rocky Mountains in the instant of a dimensional jump. She set him down on a bed in the abandoned magnificent residence's master bedroom. She watched Alex as the overdose of The Darkness took hold of his pure heart and made of it a thing of living horror. She made him like her. But Alex was not like her…

Xxxx

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

Michael and Gabriel, flew with purpose, glad to be sharing this time together. Their duty done for the day, they were applied to personal pleasures. Life had never shown them a more blissful time. Father and Mother were making a beautiful difference in the world as it healed. The Archangels' effort devoted to the Almighties' purpose made them content. The brothers laughed sharing stories of past escapades. They quieted as they approached the state in which stood the home Michael and Jillian shared. It was a home Gabriel knew delighted his brother and would soon be filled with the sounds and bustle of new life brought forth.

"Well Michael, you are moments from fatherhood, how do you feel about that?" Gabriel asked, knowing full well there may not be words for his brother to express his thoughts on the beautiful matter. Michael stopped midflight. Gabriel had to fly back to him.

"Brother?" Gabriel queried. He watched compassionately as Michael searched to find a way to express himself. "I have never known, such a …joyful honor." He managed to say. Then shook his head, exasperated, scoffing, "Words are inadequate."

"But you are happy, then?" Gabriel asked, smiling at what he knew the answer would be. "Yes. So much more than happy, Brother." Michael admitted. "Do you recall my first word the day we were made?" Michael asked his brother. "Yes, it was a question. I have not heard you ask it of Father since then, now that I think of it. You looked at Father, so confused, you were." Gabriel paused remembering the precious moment of his brother's awakening, a moment they shared, the presence of each easing one another's fears. "You asked Father, 'Why?' He finished. They smiled knowingly at one another. Michael looked intently at his brother and said, " _ **This**_ is why."

Michael was satisfied with that and seeing his brother's thoughts completed, Gabriel effused, "Then let us hurry! We don't want to miss the arrival of your answer to the greatest of all questions and your newest joy." They laughed and slapped each other's shoulders once in a mutual, arm's length congratulatory manner. They resumed their progress toward Michael and Jillian's home again.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, they were not alone. Michael turned first, sensing the new presence. Gabriel turned, then, also. Michael's defenses dropped completely as he recognized the newcomer who had dimensionally jumped to their location and responded by wearing an expression of appropriate surprised, even awed, delight. Gabriel wore a similar response.

Michael was about to address the arrival. Before he could speak, a great thunderous flash issued from the visitor enveloping the brothers. It stunned and, fractured their bodies and they fell to earth, broken, helpless against the surprise attack by one they clearly knew. Feather, dust particulates that had been their clothing and misting blood rained momentarily as the devastated brothers lay to ground.

Gabriel came to first. He had fallen to earth face down, looking out and down over the cliff he had narrowly met. His left wind hung limp over the edge. His right wing had been shredded and broken. It folded backward over his back, sketchily blanketing him.

He could not move at all. He could not speak. He could see across from him and below him where Michael had fallen. He was face up, draped across a slender, purest white stone . Michael's broken body was lightly dressed by severed flight feathers and awash in escaping blood. His head hung slightly free of the stone and his wings and arms fell away at the sides toward the abyss below, still and useless, his great strength stolen… by bitter betrayal.

xxxx

Jillian stood with her attendants and her sister, Raphael, prepared to deliver the child who would be born of a great love; a child who would be a new race of Father's children. She was well into labor and had entered the birthing pool. She would wait for Michael. He had just sent her an image of how close he was to home and how utterly enraptured with joy he was for her to be delivered and that he was to participate in the birth.

He would walk through the door of the serene room, enter the pool with her and receive their child as he or she was born. There would be no higher joy for either of them. It was in this moment that Jillian was stricken with an encompassing agony. She could not restrain the all-consuming scream. Her child was born in that scream of anguish fed to her via his father's pain. The attendants hurried to gather the swimming child and swaddled him. Raphael shimmered to male and gathered the collapsed mother.

xxxxx

Michael began to come to, a disadvantage of having a powerful body. It allowed one to receive the most extreme savagery to one's person and to remain living to experience , to know the emotional and physical anguish of it. As his own life and his brother's spilled forth, Gabriel saw Michael's awakening.

Michael looked up to the higher cliff, into Gabriel's eyes. Gabriel heard the strain of Michael's pain and despair at the sight of his brother in Michael's ragged whisper, "Gabriel." Gabriel watched as Michael looked to the luminous one who stood behind his dying brother. Gabriel had seen this moment months ago and thought he'd subverted its occurrence. He'd thought he was to have been the cause of this. He believed when he and Michael joined forces to fight Lucifer, that moment he'd seen as a vision when he was wounded in Vega was avoided. Yet there was Michael. And here was he. How could this be?

Michael's breath came in raking gasps and through the deep moans of one forced by violence to the limits of life. He lifted his head to see their attacker better then he used all of his strength to speak. Gabriel slipped from life as he heard his brother reprise the first question he had ever asked as the last of this immortal life, "Why?"

The luminous Alex watched with his blackened eyes flashing, the poison of The Darkness dancing there. He stood over the now deceased Gabriel and folded his great white wings to their sheaths to watch as Michael endured the last struggles of his extraordinary body. Michael saw Noma descend to be at Alex's side. He saw her spit on Gabriel's still body. In the despair of his grief he looked away at which point his face pressed to a cradling out cropping of the stone and he rested his head there.

Michael had seen that Noma was heavily with child. .. a child who, if it were Alex's, he recalled , would be the mate of his own soon to be born child. He found some comfort even now, knowing his legacy would carry on. Alex responded to the question Michael had posed, as Noma sneered down at Michael, admiring the devastation Alex's power had inflicted.

"Why? You and Gabriel took _**everything**_ from us. You two started the Extermination Wars. Then Gabriel branded Noma as a traitor because she sided with YOU and spread that lie among all the angels. If there wasn't enough insult to that, you forced her into a life that deprived her of every angelic trapping, tied her to a miserable human life where she had to tag after me, making her brand as traitor in service to you fly like a flag for all to see and eventually causing her to sacrifice her wings for my sake! Yes, and you took more than anyone has a right to take from me: my world, my father, my mother, my childhood, any chance for a normal life!

And if all of THAT wasn't enough destruction, your feud with Lucifer brought on Armageddon. Lucifer was the only one of any of you who gave us anything. He offered freedom and power and he gave Noma back her wings; gave me wings. All you two and your Gods ever did was take and use. So we thought we should take from you. You always said you would die for me, Michael. It's time for that… and also… naturally, because it's better to rule, than to serve. I intend to rule …I am the Chosen One. I have earned my rightful and divine place not a holding place between places. I am chosen to stand as heir to these two Gods…not you. When I have killed you and them…I will inherit my destiny as the Chosen Almighty."

Even through his shock and anguish, Michael was reminded of something that made a difference to him as Alex spoke. He acted on it quickly…there was little time. On the side out of sight of his attacker, using his bloodied finger, he scratched something upon the stone. Then, spent, Michael's head rolled from the cradling shelf, eased back against the leading edge of the white stone and fell toward the abyss as he had originally fallen from the sky.

Noma and Alex flew down to Michael. They would not let him pass in peace. They laughed as they planned more torment. Noma held Michael's head with one hand and opened his left eye widely with the other as Alex leaned forward to release a drop from the vial of The Darkness. Michael's breath, rasping, reluctant, began to abandon him as the drop of Darkness fell to capture and subvert the power of the dying true Heir to Gods and turn it to the final pain of this young, Almighty.

Michael closed his eyes and tensed as the drop of Darkness Alex released took hold of his mind. His broken body trembled from the power of the force burrowing a foothold into his psyche. He groaned from the added unpleasant sensation. He knew he may only have seconds in his present state of mind. He had experienced what The Darkness had driven Gabriel to. It had made him desire to murder his dearest family. Michael did not resent Alex or Noma for their actions in the grips of the power of The Darkness. He forgave them just as he had Gabriel's madness. Michael understood the depth of the darkness at his own core. If this unleashed all he was capable of it would make Lucifer seem a gentle and kind child by comparison.

Alex and Noma watched his struggle, pleased with their despicable undertaking's progress. They were victims of the same madness they now inflicted. They were anxious to see its effects on their new victim. Unexpectedly, Michael fell silent and still. His head fell limp over the edge of the white stone's edge. Was he dead? Was that all there would be to their attempt to infect Michael? Noma and Alex looked puzzled. Were they too late? Had they not given him enough? Suddenly Michael gasped as The Darkness found its seat within him. He screamed the anguish of its grasp on him.

Alex and Noma became pleased again. Their pleasure gave way to surprise when Michael opened his eyes. They were briefly black, as Michael's eyes would become when he was in touch with his own darkness. Then, Michael's eyes fired and flashed red with the effects of The Darkness infusion. The two tormentors were blown back by the force of power that emanated from Michael's body. Michael, feeling this surge of renewed strength, directed his right hand toward Gabriel's body as he dropped his left hand to the symbol he'd made on that side of the stone.

A blue energy ignited at the symbol, passed through Michael and fired toward Gabriel via the fingertips of Michael's right hand. The red plasma of the energy surrounded Gabriel and Michael. The power of the effort necessary forced the last of Michael's breath to depart him in a deep forced exhalation. As his exhausted life escaped, he fell limp and stilled. Noma and Alex saw the blue glow of the burst of plasma and the red of the energy that surrounded the brothers as they flew returning from where the blast had thrown them, back toward Michael. When they reached the stone where Michael had lain, he was gone. So was the body of Gabriel.

The disappointed couple blamed each other for the failure of their Darkness plot. Noma lashed at Alex with her wings but Alex seized her before her attack on him could do harm. He was far more powerful than she now. He reasoned that they had done their job and calmed the enraged Noma whispering to her, "It doesn't matter, they are gone. That was the ultimate goal, to rid this world of their interference. Now, we will come to power. Patience, love."

Noma was calmed by his reference to her as his love. She liked that. She felt it gave her power over him. She was fired to passion by the excitement of their undertakings. She grabbed Alex with her hand behind his head and pulled him to her by his hair pressing a savagely passionately kiss, drawing blood from his lip with a bite. Alex pushed her away, angry from the pain she caused him.

Noma stood apart from Alex with a crooked smile acknowledging her satisfaction at having drawn his blood. Alex flew at her and wrapped his hands in her long dark hair. He pulled her to him by it, intending to draw her blood in retaliation, but their anger bent more to passion. They flashed dimensionally intending to reach their home but didn't quite make it there. They materialized in a nearby forest. They didn't wait to get home. Need overtook them.

They ripped the clothes from one another. Alex pushed Noma against a large tree and lifted her to allow himself entry to her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him to her, deepening his penetration and her pleasure. He kissed her, pressing as closely as he could then thrusting again and again wanting to quickly achieve his satisfaction. Noma pushed him away from her before he could. Alex seethed at the apparent rejection. Noma flew at him, throwing him to the ground.

Prone in the soft undergrowth, Noma atop Alex, she guided him within her again. She sought to take her pleasure from Alex. Just before she reached her goal, Alex aggressively turned to place himself on top of Noma. He pressed her to the ground with his weight and his strength. She pushed him back. Their encounter was not loving. They each took what they wanted in a wrestling match of passions - neither giving - until each took their required pleasure...violently if necessary. The Darkness did not allow tenderness. It made of its victim a thing driven by base need alone or whatever madness it generated...their genuine affection was soundly buried in the vileness of The Darkness.

xxxx

Jillian awoke in her bed. Raphael was standing bedside, still male, ready to protect. Jillian immediately flashed to where she had received the last message from Michael. Raphael followed her dimensional jump signature. The sky was cloudless and empty where they materialized, yet there was the faintest scent of ozone. Something had happened here so traumatic as to transform the air itself.

Jillian and Raphael scanned the ground below, flying in an ever increasing spiral of circles. Jillian found what she hoped to never see again: Her love's blood; too much blood. Raphael saw it too, shimmering to feminine as she spoke, "Even an Archangel would not survive that". She had said what they both knew. "But Michael is _**more**_ , Raphael. There is a chance," Jillian said, giving them hope. Raphael nodded and they continued to search.

Nearby, a cliff edge covered in the blood of Gabriel met Raphael's gaze. Then Jillian's as well. Again, there was too much blood loss to have survived. The two looked at one another with shock and growing concern.

Jillian did not despair, but went to work. She searched high and low for Michael…his body…for any other trace of him… there was none. She felt his absence from her soul. The emptiness of his lack of presence there was unlike anything she had ever experienced. This was inexplicable by any but one conclusion. The two searchers could still not accept it and continued to investigate the area. Raphael scoured the landscape and the heavens above for Gabriel and Michael. Her brothers were not here. Only blood and feathers were here.

Raphael was standing next to Jillian in the place where Gabriel had fallen when she finally allowed the unthinkable to become fact. Her brothers were….gone…ended. She dropped her head in resignation. "No." Jillian said under her breath. "Yes, sister," Raphael confirmed. She quietly endured her own despair and stood sentinel and witness to an inconsolable grief without measure. Jillian flew to the place where Michael had lain. She called to Michael with her mind and her voice. She beseeched creation for him from the depths of her soul.

"It is I, Michael, she who with her being and life would have you here; would have your warm, tender touch upon her…have your lips caress hers….have the fire of you burn within. Are you here? Can you feel me, beloved? I am with you. I am for you. I am… you. Come to me and let us be our best selves and play in the winds and dance upon the seas and become creation… in plain sight…so that all who witness weep for want of what we share!"

Tears streaming, she fell to her knees on the still moist, sticky blood that pooled and covered the unique white stone where Michael had lain. Out of deepest grief, she screamed the name of the one she longed for, whom she knew had departed. She screamed a scream that should have resurrected the one whom she summoned where ever in the universes he was: "Michael!" She sobbed onto the cold, bloody rock. Her grief opened the skies. Lightening flashed, thunder boomed and the rain fell in a torrent, washing away the cherished one's blood. She was awash in a pool of blood-rain.

Jillian stopped crying as soon as she could manage when she realized the rain borne of her grief was taking away the blood. She tried without success to hold some of it in place. It was all there was of him. But it, all that he was, his passion, his strength , his promise, their time together… slipped through her fingers. She knelt there, frozen, abandoned by all sensibility and her great powers…helpless… as the pool of his life blood quickly flowed away into the abyss.

Not all trace had been removed. In this land of granite walls, the rock on which she knelt was unique. It was formed of a white porous sandstone dropped there by some glacier's release eons ago. Michael's blood had soaked into the stone to match his form as he had lain upon it. It showed how he had been draped over the stone exactly.

There were even markings by his arms, his hands and wings were imprinted along the sides. The right side of his face was visible in imprint on the small shelf outcropping of the stone . She gasped at the realism of the impression of him. If she could not have his body, she would have this as memorial, at least. There was more there than her grief would let her see but the stone, in its entirety, and all it held was going to be preserved.

xxxx

THREE YEARS LATER

Michael-Gabriel played with his friends, Diamond and Adonis, in the greening pasture of a new spring morning. At the moment, the child was rapt by the story Adonis and Diamond were recounting of play with his father…of how they would fly together. The child's physical beauty was a perfect blending of his father and his mother. He had only one mark on his person. It was not a blemish. It was a beautiful marking of unusual character in place on his left breast above his heart. Father called it a Legacy Mark. He called it so when He and Jillian's Mother named the child and her Father imparted the marking there.

Father had chosen Gabriel, her Mother had wished him called Michael. They had smiled joyfully at her solution of naming him both. Typical of her Father, He did not give details regarding the marking. Just that it was his gift to Michael-Gabriel.

Michael-Gabriel was powerful of his being and of his form, even now. He could speak every language; comprehend every complexity he was taught within minutes of introduction and explanation. He was insatiable for knowledge. He breathed curiosity. Jillian could not feel more blessed by her offspring.

The only anguish was that he so resembled his father at times that it caused her to weep without any defense to the pouring of her emotions' manifestation. She would tell Michael-Gabriel she wept for joy. It was not untrue. It gave her great joy to see Michael in his son. The way he moved was his father's way. Even at this young age he moved like a great cat, with supple, powerful, grace. There was none of the clumsiness of childhood.

There was wonder to Michael-Gabriel's heart and he always found joy in the wonder. It was beautiful to watch him discover. His uniquely colored eyes, sometimes hazel sometimes blue, would flash all of its colors in a fiery light when he realized the answer he sought. He did so with assured , gentle seeking and compassionate sharing with the object of his attention. It was mutual discovery because never in the history of creation was there ever such a one as this child. If only his father could share in this vision of his making, the joy of his legacy.

The sweetness of spring's profusion kissed the breezes…sweet olive, honeysuckle, wisteria, clover, jasmine, the ever present rich scent of the evergreen forest. Earth was healing from the strife of her occupants. Angels and humanity were living in peace in heaven and on earth. Great coalitions worked terra forming Earth's ravaged face under command of Raphael, restoring her as an Eden. Life proliferated everywhere. It was a glorious time to exist.

Jillian served Heaven as a member of its most elite council as befit her birthright. She served Earth as a liaison with Heaven and a Senator in the Pacific Alliance Colonial Congress. As such, she was also seated on the American Hemispheric Coalition which included all of the former Central American, Mexican, United States and Canadian territories as well as what was left of the Arctic and all of what was left of South America. Rio de janeiro was the end of the continent of South America now. Everything south of that had been destroyed by the Earth- eater h'or s 'amin's destructive consumption of the lands.

There weren't so many inhabitants that people and angels didn't have to double or triple their service posts to make everything work. It was not taxing for her. She loved helping and none of it kept her from this beautiful service…raising her family.

A beautiful girl-child, only two months younger than Michael-Gabriel, ran up to the trio bringing her friends, a great golden eagle who called herself by a name…Asencha… and the alpha mare…Adonis' primary…Atheleta. They were greeted with welcoming joy. The girl squealed the name of the boy as he tousled her hair, "Mich-iel!"

She abbreviated the names in such a way that it pronounced as Michael but she explained how she included both namesakes. Jillian approved and often did the same only resorting to both names in formal situations or when Michael-Gabriel had done something that required stern reproach. The girl insisted to the boy, "Stop, silly!". The children giggled after she tousled him back. Jillian smiled warmly to see the love of her family.

The girl child was Jillian's adoptive daughter, L'ann-on Omna Michelle. The phrase meant 'love & honor of Michael. They called her L'ann in daily life. Jillian thought back on the day L'ann had been brought to her by Raphael, who told her a bit of history that shocked her but made her love the child all the more.

"I cannot raise her has my own, Jilli-an. Father has given me great duties…many that will take me far and away very often. I wish her to know the life she can have here, with you and Michael-Gabriel. Will you take my child, whom I love more than my own life, to raise in the light of your love?" Raphael had said pleadingly.

"Have you named the child?" Jillian asked. "Yes, I've spoken to Father, he approves of the name to honor love. I've called her L'ann-on Omna Michelle." Jillian lowered her eyes with a light gasp of an "Ah". Her eyes filled with emotion at the honor paid her beloved by Raphael's naming. How could she resist a child named for honor of Michael? Jillian recovered then thought of Raphael's impending sacrifice.

"Father … asks you to part from your child?" Jillian asked a bit surprised. "He has …asked it." Raphael said with the strain of emotion as a tear fell down her exquisite cheek."

"Oh, my dear sister, I am sorry." Jillian said as she embraced Raphael to comfort her. " You must nurture all of creation and not your own." Taking both of Raphael's hands in hers, Jillian assured her sister. "I welcome L'ann and I will love and raise your child for you. If you cannot mother her, then you will be as much in her life as is permitted. You will be here as much as you can. This is your home now, Raphael, whenever and as much as ever you wish. May you say who is your child's father?"

"No, no, she said lowering her head then realizing that may be construed as admission of an unwelcome parentage and she added, " It is not a shameful, unloving or unexalted parentage I bring you, Jilli-an. Quite the opposite." Raphael looked away having received instruction in that moment. "That is all I may say."

"Come, now and let us establish your suite of rooms when you are in residence. You have preference for the wing adjacent to the conservatory, I know. That was a favorite place for Michael as well."

"No. I thank you sister for your boundless generosity. But, no. I will remain in celestial residence…I do not think I could…" The great archangel began to tremble with emotion…her heart was breaking. Jillian went to hold her for comfort, but Raphael made a dimensional jump and was gone. Jillian spoke to God, "Oh, Father…sometimes you ask too much of your archangels. I pray you ease Raphael's trial. Your will be done."

Jillian looked out to the pasture now and called to the assembly there, "Ho, friends!" Diamond and Adonis' heads popped up attentively from Michael-Gabriel and L'ann's newest project. " Keep an eye or eight on the children, my friends." Diamond sneezed his response and the stallion tossed his head…Jillian heard "Naturally" from Diamond, and "Of course" from Adonis, "Done, winged friend" from Ascencha and from Atheleta, "My highest priority" .

She smiled at their devotion and sashayed into the residence. The rich fabric of her gown made a shushing sound as she moved…her grace of motion made her passage almost an insinuation of having been present. Indeed, in many ways, she was just insinuated here.

She grieved Michael's absence so and still searched with her mind, her spirit, her essence. She searched everywhere for trace of him. The absence of trace vexed her….it was not natural…it was not correct…and that meant something. What it meant she still had not divined. So she searched creation every way she knew for answers. Her progress through her home was interrupted by an assistant who hurried her way calling, "Ma 'dam Jilli -an?"

"Yes, Rae." Jillian allowed the conversation to continue by halting. Rae caught up and reported, " General Dianna Vincent of the Pacific Alliance wishes to stop by this afternoon with her daughter, Alexa Vincent for a visit with Michael- Gabriel and L'ann- on Omna Michelle."

"Will her wife be joining us?" Jillian asked.

"No Ma'dam. The General indicated her wife, Dr. Ladienne , was meeting with the World Counsel on Climate in Melbourne this week."

"I see. That's a shame. Very well, Rae-an. I would enjoy her company. Please accept General Vincent's gracious request at once, my dear."

Alexa Vincent was important to Jillian and for Michael-Gabriel. She was the child of Alex Lannon and Noma Banks, the child of the Savior. Both parents had died the week of Michael's disappearance. Only Jillian knew this. After months of their untraceable absence, Jillian had received a message from Alex that Noma needed her. He'd said in the message that Noma was about to give birth to their child and they enticed Jillian further to come to their aid by saying they had found out something about Michael and Gabriel's disappearance.

Jillian was amazed that they were contacting her . No one had heard from Noma or seen her since the day she was turned to Lucifer's service. Alex had vanished from the Vega camps the next day. Michael had searched for him in every spare moment he could manage.

There was no sign of foul play to Alex's disappearance, so Michael finally had to focus on pressing matters of rebuilding this dominion and his impending fatherhood, thinking Alex wished to remain unfound. Statues and portraits of Alex were raised worldwide to honor the Savior. The world accepted that he sought seclusion now that his duty was done. Jillian knew Alex Lannon's child had a destiny bound to her and Michael's child and despite misgivings, to learn something of Michael, for honor of Michael's love for the boy, for honor the boy deserved as Savior, she hurried to their aid.

Alex and Noma had planned to torment Jillian with their revelation of killing Michael and Gabriel and while she was in shock, they planned to kill Jillian. She was too powerful to allow her to live. They needed her gone if they were to establish Alex's reign as Chosen Almighty. Jillian never knew of their plans for her or their plans to reign here in place of her parents.

She responded to their plea, flying to their residence in the Rocky Mountains. She had found Noma and Alex in the last throes of a madness which she recognized as infection with "The Darkness". Lucifer's handiwork she imagined, though since he was dead, consigned to oblivion, she could not be certain how.

She had seen the eyes of the higher angel and The Chosen One had flashed black as they strangled each other in aDarkness driven rage over some news they had received about someone Alex had apparently cared for at one time. She heard Alex say through the strain of his throat's constriction that he was, going to do what he wished and that Noma could not interfere. Noma proved that she would and could. Jillian, hurrying toward the two embroiled people could not reach them before they simultaneously snapped one another's neck. They were dead before Jillian was close enough to act.

Jillian had taken the child from Noma by Caesarian Section post mortem and had buried the parents together southeast of Vega in deep unmarked graves near the home Alex knew as a child. Michael had told her of it. She buried them next to the grave of Alex's mother, Charlie. If they'd remained on the surface or were otherwise prepared for burial, "The Darkness" within Noma and Alex would have been released to roam free and wreak havoc. She alone handled the remains.

There was a way to cure infection by "The Darkness" but only in the living. There was a way to heal death, but not for one deceased in the grips of The Darkness infection. She mourned their passing, but thought it best no one knew anything of it. They would remain disappeared and live on as legend. She alone would bear the burden of this tragic knowledge.

As she had stood by their graves, Jillian considered that they had paid a high cost for their part in this Armageddon's solution. They both deserved better. She had thought all of The Darkness destroyed after they removed the remaining vial Lucifer had secreted away within the chamber beneath the church in Mallory. Somehow enough remained to foster this horror. She hoped it was all gone now. Buried . How ironic that the last of Lucifer's twisted acts played out in his absence to destroy the Savior whose service defeated him.

Jillian brought the child of Alex Lannon and Noma Banks to a trusted friend, General Dianna Vincent of Helena who had just married her long-time love, Dr. Ladienne Patricia. They both wanted children, but neither she nor Ladienne were able to bear children. They planned to adopt.

They both had brilliant minds and were willing to take on a challenge. Jillian provided false papers for the birth and adoption. The two women never knew they raised the Chosen One and the Higher Angel Noma's child. Jillian told them the child was of mixed blood, an angel was involved so they should watch for exceptional traits and to let her know if and when they appeared and she would guide the parents through.

They were so happy to have a child they agreed to the possible problems and said they'd be watching. When Alexa began to demonstrate superior intelligence, Jillian provided angelic teachers and a nanny to help the couple. They were grateful and enjoyed the process of rearing their extraordinary child. They were up to the task and truly friends with Jillian, helping her through the process of grieving Michael.

Jillian was happy the child had a loving home and knowing the child's future as Michael - Gabriel's mate, Jillian was glad to contribute in any way to her upbringing. Even as infants, Michael-Gabriel and Alexa demonstrated a strong affinity for one another's company. Jillian would do nothing to stand in the way of their future. In fact, she had come to love Alexa.

It was a great concern to her that so many unfortunate things had happened to Alexa and around her. Jillian's thoughts wandered to more recent events. Lately it seemed Alexa was not able to keep a pet. They all died horribly or were lost, never to be found. She hoped the child would not be scarred by the losses.

Jillian called out to Rae as she was departing, "Rae, please have the kitchen prepare suitable snacks for the children and refreshment for General Vincent and myself. She did dislike the constant interference that was the necessity of being a stateswoman but this would be a happy personal visit and she was glad of the extra staff help to manage matters.

A wing had been added to the gracious house for the live-in staff . The nanny, Sandriel and household head of staff, Mason-ra ran the house affairs and her personal assistant, Rae-an gifted with diplomatic and organizational skills as well as fighting skills, lived there. All were Higher Angels with a preference to live on Earth. Homes outside the main property were provided for the other required staff, including away residences for her personal live-in staff to have as sanctuary in their off- time.

Jillian had also added a wing for her offices of state. She managed all of her official duties from there. The staff called it Claire Mount because in the jumble of the current government, they considered it and her the high point, a pinnacle or mountain of clarity. She laughed to herself at the very idea that there was clarity to any of the current muddled proceedings. But they had made good progress. The world was healing. If only she could.

xxxx

Jillian did not know that Raphael had seen her bury Alex. Jillian had dropped the note from Alex requesting her presence as she had hurried to meet him and Noma. Raphael had found it a short time later. She followed the trace of Jillian's dimensional jump from the home in the Rockies to the site where Jillian had made Alex and Noma's graves. Raphael could barely contain her grief. She wanted to scream for Jillian to stop, but then she would know Raphael loved the Savior. For some reason she did not want anyone to know.

Raphael held her place and watched Jillian bury the two lovers with reverence. She watched her weep for them and finally leave. Raphael hurriedly exhumed Alex. "I will restore your life, my love, I swear it," she pledged to his still warm body. She was about to proceed with the cure for recent death when she looked at his eyes. Their blackness told her of the presence of a horror…The Darkness. She could not restore his life, it was contaminated.

To die in the grips of the infection of Darkness made the soul inaccessible. She was aware that Holy Fire could purge The Darkness if he lived. If Holy Fire could not be created, the blood of a sacrifice of love could cleanse The Darkness as well. She would gladly give her life for his. But again, it would only save a living person. "No, no this can't be!" Raphael wept bitterly that so pure a heart should have been taken this way. It was cruel and senseless and despicable. She wept without reserve for her lost love.

Bound by Darkness, he could never be again. His soul could never even reach the Outer Sphere much less heaven. There could be no rebirth. She did not know a way to undo this, but there must be a way. She would spend her existence trying to find a way to free him; to restore him. She had, after all pledged it. Raphael preserved Alex in amber so that he might be restored in time. Not wanting him to experience the grief of loss, she also preserved Noma in amber. She returned them both to the graves Jillian had made for them. They would be safe. Raphael had no way to know that Father would, in his great love for his son, labor to save all of Alex that could be salvaged from The Darkness infection.

Father did do so and finally, He had extracted the purity of Alex's heart. Alex could never again live as Alex, but his goodness would persist. Father had given it as a gift so that part of Alex could carry on. It was the least he could do for love of his children…for love of Michael.

xxxx

Years ago, 26 years ago, Father had requested a great service of Michael. Knowing Michael's unique genetics could impart his codes into a life, and requiring a human vessel for future work and deeds of great purpose, Father had asked Michael to lay with the woman, Charlie. "I have prepared and purified her to receive your genetics my son. She will conceive a child of purest heart and godly nature but still as one of humanity," Father informed Michael.

Knowing the extent of his genetics' inheritance, Michael asked, "Will the joining create the child who will be your heir, Father?"

"Not my heir, Michael. There will not be transfer of enough of what you carry to create that but a new savior…one with your gift for protection and battle… will be given life, for my children shall have need of such a one." Michael was obviously unsettled by the request but he replied, "Your will be done, Father."

Father had seen Michael's upset and knew Michael would always feel terrible guilt if he fathered a child and did not nurture the mother and child. Michael's nature would instill in him an undying responsibility to and for the child he fathered. He did not require Michael to be so burdened. It would not undo his plan, so in an act of compassion, for Michael's peace of mind and freedom, Michael's Father erased the memory of the encounter and of his command.

But Father had underestimated Michael again. Michael was still drawn to the child, as the child exuded divinity, which Michael was created to protect. Even unborn, the bond was made. Father was pleased with Michael's capacity for devotion but realized the great risk to Michael were it ever known that he could safely impart Godliness. Michael's obsession for the Chosen child could raise questions. Father thought to subvert this plan in order to make Michael and what he carried within him safe.

Father ordered the child to remain unrealized. After doing so, rare circumstances presented making this time critical. Father required to make other great strides in his creation plan and to make amends with his mate. So He left gifts and suggestions and contingencies to his foremost archangels. He had given each a gift and duty. To Michael he gifted holy markings. It was intended that , when the time was right, Michael would be able to read them and wield their instruction and power.

Father had told Michael as he stood before him wearing the gift, that "The markings are the means to bring mankind and angel kind into a new age. When they can be interpreted, the markings and the choices of the Chosen Savior will save or destroy. They shall open the way for my return. Give them to serve man and angel kind, my son, so that The Chosen as Savior may light my way and bring the Advent of Salvation."

Father intended that Michael be both the Chosen and the Advent of Salvation. With the chosen child in play, Michael would have only had to serve as the Advent of Salvation. His duty was doubled, but Father knew Michael was capable and other necessary events would still present as required. Another vessel was planned and would emerge eventually.

Gifts and instruction of a sort given similarly to all, Father let his archangels' nature and human nature make the course to serve his plan. Father left. He went beyond The Veil to attend matters there and allow his plan to unfold here. His plan would take much longer to be affected without this child of Michael and Charlie. So be it. Michael must be safe to go on.

Father had asked Gabriel to be certain that a specific child remained undiscovered. He was told the child's power must never grow to maturity. Father did not give details. Gabriel had made mistakes in pursuing his goals…some grave…but he had still done his utmost.

He'd pulled out all of the stops to serve Father's request but even Gabriel's masterful genius and skills couldn't stop his brother's instinct to protect godly presence, especially in the form of Michael's own child. Gabriel had no way to know that was what he'd been asked to come between. Unbeknownst to even Father, the draw was more than protective and Michael's devotion would grow into love for his child and cement an unbreakable bond and a joined destiny.

xxxx

When Father returned from beyond The Veil, He found He was glad that Alex had persisted and that his unique purity had destroyed the Amphora of Darkness. Michael's child was enormously gifted and, like Michael, he was gifted in unexpected ways. However, Father, seeing the risk to future requirements, had made an adjustment to Alex's power at the same time He and his Beloved had restored and altered Michael after their return that day in Mallory. No one else would ever be taken by the monstrous force of that Amphora of Darkness, but Father could not allow Alex to carry that power to annihilate Amphorae…or that particular Darkness.

The adjustment to prevent that ability also reduced Alex's immunity to The Darkness. Since it was destroyed, Father determined there would be no great loss by this imperceptible change. Lucifer's madness and separation from Father had shielded the fact that he possessed the vials of Darkness. That was part of the great hazard Lucifer always was. His thoughts and intents had always been concealed until they became a completed consequence.

The poisoning of Noma and of Alex by Noma was not intended. It was a great sadness that this possibility had manifested. Alex would always be loved and honored as a Savior. His name and deeds would live forever…and more would live, his offspring…and more than that. Father sought a way to ease his own sense of loss at Alex's ending but primarily, He sought to honor Michael.

Father placed his salvaged gift, the purity of Alex's soul, along with additional gifts, within Jillian and Michael's child. Its presence would be sensed in such a way that the emptiness caused by Alex's absence would be eased. And Father did this in order that both of Michael's children would always be loved, even though no one would ever know that Alex Lannon, the Savior, had been Michael's first child.

The Legacy Mark, a flame within an oval, the mark worn by Alex upon his chest, now on Michael-Gabriel's chest, made note that Michael and Jillian's child was one of godly power, one of destiny, one of purity of heart and also fury and the seat of great deeds…his would always be a remarkable life of great purpose and duty and accomplishment and …great love. The child of Michael and Jillian already possessed greatness by genetics, but this was more. It was not a genetic gift; it was an essence gift, essence powers to Michael and Jillian's child. The Legacy Mark on his chest was evidence of the gift; the gift of all that was good in Alex.

xxxx

Jillian continued her meander along the house-brook and entered the central garden bursting with the life it contained in its space. No one ever disturbed her there. No one dared. No one wished to trouble her visits. This was their act of compassionate honor for her.

Now, at the center of her beautiful central indoor garden, was a white stone set in an oval swale so that, as you stood flush with the floor, you could see the image atop it painted there in hues of blood from deepest black to the coppery rust of its now oxidized iron. It was beautiful art to any casual observer…holy to any who knew its origin.

A gently graduated surrounding black marble stair brought you within the oval of its center where the last black marble step was the walk way. You could walk around the entirety of the great rock. Jillian kept it dressed in a garland of evergreen. Today she had a small collection of fragrant riches to place atop it. "A sweet kiss, beloved," she said as she set the delicate bouquet over the place Michael's heart would have been.

The bouquet wore a droplet that was her tear. She would never in all of her long existence not miss him. "We should have had eternity, Michael. I could bear it better, if I knew the answers. The not knowing robs me of my sanity at times."

She looked at her feet, ashamed she could not manage that better. The stone before her was more than imagery, more than a remains. With her extraordinary senses, she could still feel the slightest vibration that Michael's powerful life left lingering. It was the only place she'd ever found trace of him. She continued to speak to the absent force in her life with her hand on his image in the stone…feeling his life's song in its only remaining restrains.

"Father nor Mother will speak of your absence. I believe they grieve you as well…they will not say at all. Not even to give me peace. But you are here…" she touched the art of his form's making "and here" she touched the place where deep within her heart and soul the part of him he gave her lived, now as an ache of emptiness. "And here," she indicated the painting she had made of Michael-Gabriel and set next to this shrine where she communed with the physical remnants of he who made this life she lived so much…richer.

Then, overcome, Jillian, in a slow crumble she was powerless to avoid, slipped to the ground and pressed her tear streaked cheek to the impression of the hand whose touch she had cherished. She wept her longing. So deep was her grief that she fell to a semi-consciousness. She willed herself to remain alert there. She needed to deal with this once and for all in order to set it aside and live.

She still did not see the symbol etched, tiny, in blood, but she was in contact with it. Having smushed aside the evergreen garland that usually obstructed it, the moisture of her tears… her fluid genetics which because of her unique blending with Michael were also his… unlocked it.

She was in a state she had not achieved before. It fascinated her to be there. One foot was in alert and active thought of presence, one foot in the unconsciousness of her mind's grief play. Or so she thought. There she heard her name called in a familiar voice, with a sorrowful, longing whisper. She saw a shadowy form… a side silhouette of a standing familiar perfection.

It was someone male. He looked up from his occupation and then towards her. He spoke her name again, with amazed and hopeful surprise that filled her with a thrilling hope, "Jilli-an!" The voice was one whose sound shocked and shattered her state of being to dissolve. The form took a step toward her. As she left there she heard him call out as he continued toward her, "No, wait!" As he spoke he showed her something and realizing he would not reach her in time, he stopped and threw it toward her calling out an instruction, "Open the Emblem of Legacy!"

Jillian lifted her head and the broken contact with the symbol caused its lock to reinitiate permitting her to awaken from this trance-like state. Its affect allowed her to fully realize into this reality the voice's commander. " Michael! Oh! She exhaled breathily with stunned delight. She had to reach him again, but her joy did not permit the grief which had allowed her to get to that place… if that was even a factor…if that was even a place. Her mind raced to a hundred possibilities.

Michael stood frozen in the wake of this long awaited opportunity. He could catch the faintest fragrance of her presence. "Was it she, at last?" Drowsily asked the formerly sleeping Gabriel from the deeper shadows of their confines. Michael turned his head slightly toward the beautiful carved bed he had fashioned as a stress relieving project in times eons past. Gabriel now sat upright in the splendid furnishing. "Yes, brother," He answered. Michael's mind and his heart were reaching afar from the boundaries of this place, this sanctuary, now a prison without Jillian's actions to free him and his brother.

xxxx

Michael had taken them to his hide- a –way in the place between the place between places. He'd created both a passage and a lock sigil on their travel so that their attackers could not follow any trace of them. The lock he'd made was a Legacy lock, only one with his genetics and with his knowledge of multi-universal folding quantum physics would ever find them. He'd thought their remains, at least, would rest here peacefully undisturbed.

The power infusion the drop of The Darkness Alex had infected him with , combined with the legacy aspect of the sigil had given the energy for the movement of Michael and his directed capture of a genetic match to him. In this case, it was his twin brother. The power and the sigil combined with Michael's new god-matrix had not only transported them to this place. The sigil actually brought the place they traveled to them and seated it within the stone upon which Michael had lain. This made their transport a short journey. That fact had freed enough power to apply toward regenerating them.

For six months they had existed, each in an energy cocoon, protected within its power as they recovered held in a state of suspended animation. Michael's red glowing energy cocoon fell away once he was healed. He had awakened first from the restorative state as he god matrix healed him more quickly. He awoke lying on the travertine stone floor of this place.

When he awoke, Michael remembered what had transpired, how Alex had attacked. He recalled his pain. His body remembered it also. He reached for his chest which had been fractured . The force of the blast Alex had stricken him with had split open his body along its weakest points like a hairline volcanic fault. He was relieved to find himself knitted whole again. Then Michael became aware that he was desperately thirsty and shivered from cold.

He could see where he was by the bioluminescent lighting from the plants he'd brought indoors for that purpose the last time he'd visited this world. The plants fed on air alone and were ideal for indoor use. He was glad for them now. He rose with some difficulty, slowly and then wrapped himself toga style in a blanket that had draped a nearby chair. Then he stumbled to the graduated pools of fresh water that supplied his sanctuary, his home away from home.

He drank from the cool waters in the highest pool…waist high to Michael… fed by an up-flow filtering system of graduated pools and gravel material he'd made using a free flowing spring in this natural habitat he'd claimed. The method freed the pure ground water of any sand it may have carried with it from the subterranean river source that fed it.

Refreshed, Michael noticed the red glow of another cocoon. He smiled as he saw within it, his brother lived. He would be patient knowing his brother would accompany him soon. He busied himself in his customary pursuits as he awaited Gabriel's emergence. He also worked on a way to be released from the lock he'd made. There hadn't been time to make the exit markings on the sigil, furthermore, he'd not anticipated that they would survive to need an exit. Now, options were limited.

When Gabriel had regenerated, Michael helped his brother's revival to be more comfortable than his own. As the final vestige of Gabriel's energy cocoon crumbled away, Michael stood ready with a robe for warmth and the water he knew Gabriel would crave. Time given to acclimate Gabriel to this place…it took some adjustment to be comfortable in the disorienting effects of the gravity's density fluctuations and the more complex rich air in the world of this bend in space/time they occupied.

The brothers worked making this simple, natural home rather opulent. They practiced their meditations and martial arts together, as they had in their earlier lives. They challenged one another with mental tasks of philosophy, Warcraft and every other discipline. This world was rich in flora and fauna and moderate application of effort provided all they needed for sustenance.

Gabriel had made the meal this night as a gratitude for Michael's care of him during his recovery. The repast looked amazing as Michael sat down to table to enjoy their first real meal together. He scooped up a great fork full of the vegetable medley that looked so appealing. As soon as his taste buds registered the flavors, his mouth advised him to desist. He looked across the table at Gabriel who was beaming in happy expectation of Michael's reaction to the food. "Huh. Ahh…" Michael didn't want to hurt Gabriel's feelings. He forced a smiling nod of approval while attempting to hold the 'food' in his mouth as far as he could from any actual taste surfaces within. This politeness invited Gabriel to dive in to his creation.

As Michael sat frozen with his hand to his mouth to support it in its distress and prevent the desired expulsion, he watched his brother take a bite. Gabriel's reaction was not nearly so subtle. He spat the veggies across the room making a noise that approximated a bleating goat. Michael evacuated the food to his napkin on seeing Gabriel agreed with his assessment. Both rinsed their mouths with their wine. When he could talk, Michael said, "I'll make the meals here after, if you don't mind, Brother." Still coughing and sputtering the taste from his mouth, Gabriel nodded his acceptance of Michael's offer.

Michael took charge of meal preparation immediately. He'd become quite the chef during his time with Jillian and Gabriel, realizing his lack of know how, now would happily benefit from his brother's skill. When they'd recovered, Michael made an omelet of eggs he'd gathered and the remnants of the actually edible veggies..not the medicinal herb stash. Gabriel smiled his approval of the meal and ate heartily.

Michael gazed at his omelet remembering how Jillian had taught him to prepare the egg mixture and then cook it slowly on lower heat to get the best, fluffiest result from eggs. He missed her. He lingered in his thoughts with her in the beautiful kitchen of their home… with his beloved's face smudged in butter and flour and chocolate powder she was using to make a soufflé. Their culinary work that day was interrupted, as so often their projects were, by their passion for one another.

He had just intended to playfully lick the chocolate away from her cheek, but she had turned just then and their lips met…and the world stopped. Jillian was in his arms and that was all the world he could want. Gabriel, seeing his brother hesitating to eat broke Michael's remembrance saying, "The omelet is marvelous, Michael. Eat, Brother!" He did. And so time passed…month after month.

Six months into their confinement here, one evening's after-meal conversation eventually fell to how Michael had reacted to The Darkness infection. "Brother, I can not fathom how it is that The Darkness infection affected you so differently." Gabriel posed the uncomfortable curiosity. Michael brushed the question aside, not wishing to explore the issue. He had a theory, but he didn't like it. "More wine, Gabriel?" Michael said, standing to serve his brother another glass of their uniquely light yet somehow at once, full bodied beverage made from a nameless fruit that grew here. Gabriel tried to speak again of it but Michael evaded him saying, " I have to clear the meal…"

As Gabriel's genius was one that was strong in the areas where Michael was less and he excelled where Gabriel was less, they together, made a formidable analytical force. Gabriel had also formed a theory about how The Darkness had affected Michael. He would not be put off. "Michael," he spoke to his brother as Michael walked to busy himself away from a discussion. Gabriel turned to face his brother's back again trying to engage him, "Michael, surely we can breech this subject, you and I?"

"Gabriel, I do not wish to," Michael said to the wall in front of him as he washed the dishes. Gabriel could see by the tension in Michael's back that his brother had steeled himself against the subject. He knew Michael's temper, but as there was not much else to do, he thought, why not tug on superman's cape? The prospect needed to be faced and better here, in this place where he would do less damage if the truth sent him over the edge than it would back…home. "Michael, you utilized the power of The Darkness instead of the pure form of it taking you over into its destructive madness. I have firsthand experience with how unfathomable that power is, you recall?"

"The Darkness of the Amphora affected me just as it did everyone except Alex," Michael retorted. "That is an anomaly," Gabriel said thoughtfully. Then he stated a possible cause for that ,"But you are in an altered state now, Michael. You took into yourself an irrepressible destructive force and created from it. You… created… with Darkness. That is unprecedented and it has implications."

"Gabriel, if you utter another word I shall end you!" Michael was seething. Gabriel could see as Michael turned to face him that his eyes were black and smoldering with fury. Gabriel ventured a comment, "You tap into that darkness within you as readily as you breathe." Michael, true to his word, flew at his brother with the cutlery he had been washing. Gabriel had been ready for the explosion and evaded him.

"Michael, this is not a condemnation. It is an attempt at discovery. What matter does it make? You are who you have ever been even if you are not what you were. Be at peace with this." Michael stopped, surrendering to hear what his brother would say, but first he said, "The darkness in me has been the source of great struggle and the cause of untold savagery."

"All for which you have been redeemed. Let that be past, Michael. Yet you know it is still there, I can see it…you can feel it."

"What are you implying? It is certainly not a point of pride, Gabriel."

"No brother, it is a point of strength, of power. And to your credit that you have such control of it. Now even the purest form of The… Darkness… bends to you." Gabriel paused. He had a revelation. He gasped at the thought now in his mind. He knew Michael felt where he was going now and he allowed Michael to brace for the next statements he would make. He advanced this as gently as he could. "Now, hear my theory. You are not now nor have you ever been imbued with a dusting of inner darkness by Father from some mysterious source of The Darkness. Michael, the source of The Darkness is… you."

Michael gasped at the words as though Gabriel had stricken him physically. Though he knew the truth of it, still his need was to deny it, "No." Michael whispered. He could not find the strength of his words or of his heart. Tears welled in his now softly blue eyes as the horror he did not want to face met his reality. His wings burst forth and he flew from the residence, wishing to flee this truth. Gabriel's heart broke to see Michael so devastated by his reality. He thought how to help him when he returned but Gabriel did not see Michael for the next year.

xxxx

One soft evening, as Gabriel read one of the books Michael had cherished, his eyes lifted to see his brother at the residence's door. He was tattered, with the wild look of a trapped animal, gaunt from his long self-neglect and emotional suffering. "Michael!" Gabriel breathed his brother's name with compassion and relieved joy. He rose and walked to Michael.

He reached him just as Michael collapsed into his arms sobbing. Gabriel wept with him and eased to his knees along with Michael's crumpling. Gabriel cradled his distraught sibling with the loving compassion he knew would be needed to heal his heart. Of all he had thought he would say on this day, Gabriel simply said with utter love, "Brother, welcome home."

There was no way to know what damage the tormented Michael left in his wake. He never spoke of his year of struggle. Gabriel never pressed him for details. It was enough that Michael knew and was finding a way to live with his truth, that he controlled the power he held. Gabriel secretly hoped the one drop of Darkness returned to its source by Alex was not a drop too much. Michael appeared to be in complete control of it but, it was also true that since his return from his year away, Gabriel noticed that sometimes , when Michael slept, there would present a red energy aura around him. His brother was changing.

It didn't help that Michael longed desperately for his beloved. Often it was as if he was not whole of himself. He would wander away in his mind for hours reaching with his thoughts for her, wondering about his child and the years he was missing of that cherished life. He had much to bear. Gabriel did not antagonize Michael, but did his best to bring him peace.

As the brothers returned to a happy routine, Michael eventually shared the specific scientific details of their dilemma. Gabriel was shocked at the complexity of the work Michael had accomplished and how he had applied it to save them. He found he was so fascinated by the weavings of sciences and Michael's power that he couldn't even be angry that Michael hadn't had the forethought to write the code for their exit. Well, not much angry.

Together the two extraordinary siblings worked tirelessly to solve the matter of their return to normal space/time. They found there was only one way. A genetic match to Michael would have to open the Legacy Emblem and hold it open. If they did, they would appear here, in the living room. They determined the possible candidates for finding them, for reaching them, were Father, Mother, Jillian and Michael's child.

The brothers altered their routine so that one was alert to any presence at all times. One slept, one was awake to stand vigil. This night, three years into their ordeal, Michael stood watch as Gabriel slept. Michael had prepared a message in anticipation of an appearance. Such a moment had just passed...

xxxx

Jillian had been here. Michael could still sense her complex and beautiful fragrance. He hoped upon hope Jillian would understand his instruction. He had sent her a mental message and a written one. It was their only chance to reenter traditional existence.

Gabriel, having been wakened, now stood beside and just behind Michael. The two stared at the empty space where Jillian had fallen into their world. Gabriel placed his hand on Michael's shoulder knowing the torrent of emotions that seeing Jillian likely stirred . A red aura emitted from Michael. Upon feeling Gabriel's hand, the aura expanded, encompassing them both as they gazed longingly, with hope toward their future salvation.

Jillian still stood breathless by the unique white stone bearing the image of her love trying to recover from her passage. She stared into the stone as if she could see Michael standing two steps away within. He _**was**_ there. Two steps away…within…just beyond the Legacy Emblem. Jillian did not see the sealed cylinder Michael had thrown to her containing instructions. It emitted trace of him, but since she stood next to the stone which resonated of him still, she did not discern it. The crucial cylinder of hope hid now beneath the lowest boughs of a pair of paperbark birch trees just outside of the black marble surround of the stone shrine.

Possibilities for what had just happened were still streaking through Jillian's mind. She would find out in which possibility stood her love. Renewed joy danced in her previously stilled and broken heart. "I have found you, Michael!" She announced to the air around her hoping he could somehow hear her. " I will not let you go. I cannot let you go...ever." Then she saw the sigil. It triggered her to remember his instruction, "Open the Emblem of Legacy."

Her mind shuffled through her great knowledge stores but could recollect nothing of an "Emblem of Legacy". Only a 'Legacy Mark' was known to her and that only recently. Their child bore the mark on his chest. Could they be one and the same? How could that possibly relate to this? She did not recognize the language of the sigil. She could barely think through her excitement. She fell then in embrace of the stone as representative of Michael and said, " I will find you again…beloved… if it takes all that I am and the whole of time…no matter the cost."

****Author's Note: This writing experience was a first for me in every way, so it will always be special to me, as will be you who encouraged the writing. It has been my pleasure to share this fictional weaving of struggles, love, loss and salvation of every kind with all of you who have entered the play of these lives born of a blend of Vaun Wilmott's 'Dominion' and my ramblings. While the richness of this story is infinite, I think we would all like to see our dear characters again in the light of Vaun's vision.

I intentionally leave this tribute carried forward in its journey with mysteries, possibilities, new struggles and hope for our extraordinary characters in the ongoing adventure of their changing world. I wish you all happiness and adventure within your own dominions. They are yours, even in the darkest times. They are only a thought away, after all. ****


	21. Chapter 21

Salvation

****Author's note: I am reminded of a recent comment I heard by a favorite actress, Helen Mirren. She commented that she "would do literally anything for a piece of cheese". I was offered "cheese" in the form of several requests to continue this story. I love that you are enjoying the journey of Michael and Jillian. I love that you care what happens to them. In exchange for that lovely "cheese", I give you the following.****

Chapter 21

Key of the Fallen

A year into her investigations, Jillian had not found any answers to the Legacy Emblem mystery. No one had heard of a Legacy Emblem. Many told her what she had experienced, falling into a world where Michael existed, was just her grief playing tricks on her mind. Even Father and Mother remained silent on the matter. She simply had to find some key. Her grief and confusion and desperation caused her work and every other aspect of her life to begin to suffer neglect. Assistants to her offices had to take up the slack in her performance of duties. She became more and more reclusive, spending day and night within the inner garden with the white stone memorial or mentally downloading the vastness of Heaven's library which contained the complete knowledge of all things in known existence.

There was nothing. Until one day she found the sequential volumes of folding quantum physics were missing a text. What was within, she felt was essential. There was no copy, no one else available had read the text. Only Father and Mother knew its contents. They were so engaged that they could not or would not share the information. She searched the edges of the universe for trace of thought energies that may contain clues. Anything that could help had traveled beyond reach. No one had read that text for eons. Still it had to be somewhere.

She talked to everyone about Michael's early years to find ways to retrace his activities. She literally turned over stones and looked under bushes, in the crevices of rocks, between the roots of trees for places the volume might be hidden. She searched her memories of all he had imparted to her. The things he imparted unconsciously were hardest to seek out but she labored to uncover them. Still nothing came to fruition.

She became despondent. She stopped eating. She reached out to no one. No one could reach her. The coalition of creatures who were her friends finally sent Asencha into the house to seek her out. Asencha found her deep in the closet where Michael's clothing still hung. She was sitting on the floor, knees up embracing the pillow from his bed. Jillian glanced up when she heard the feathers of wings settle overhead on the closet shelf. With a broken sob she said, "I still experience his scent here."

"Yes." The eagle said quietly understanding her wish to be immersed." My dear, all things must pass. Even the greatest of us will dissolve to spirit and eventually dissipate into the beyond."

"But Michael was not nearly approaching that. There should be trace of him if that occurred and …I SAW him…living! He lives. He lives."

Asencha tried to bring reason to Jillian's grief driven obsession that her mate still lived, "He lives always, wherever he has fallen, however he has fallen from us. He lives within us. All of us. Let what his life gave you help you soar." The great eagle poured her compassion and wisdom to Jillian. " I have lost many children and my own dear mate. I have some concept of your loss. You must let go. You must live beyond your time with the Mighty One. You must learn to fly alone again. Let his memory be a strength. He would want that. Let go of the stone in your heart, My Lady." Asencha saw her words had no effect and so fell to the deed of last resort. " Come, fly with me. I have something that may breathe life into you again."

Jillian rose to her feet at the eagle's behest. They flew in silence until they reached a spot in what used to be Yellowstone National Park. They stood at the edge of a steaming, bubbling pool of mud. Next to its hostile environment was a lovely, impossible bloom. Nothing else lived there. Nothing could. "It should have been long withered and gone," said Asencha, "yet it flourishes where all of its companions have perished. Their departed life feeds her with all that they were in life. She has learned to let go and move forward honoring their lives with her continuation.

It is a sacred pilgrimage for my kind to fly here. We mate for life, as you do and so must learn these hardest lessons. Can you learn from the Sacred Bloom what so many of my kind have? Does she not inspire you to bloom once again?"

"Asencha, you honor me by this sharing of your sacred place and its great and good lesson. I will…try harder. I will try," Jillian promised.

"You are wise, My Lady. The honor is mine. Let us make our way home, renewed of spirit."

They flew back to their home outside of Helena, 'Claire Mount', as it was now called. Jillian did make small talk and Asencha considered their time successful in aiding her Lady. She reported that to the group of friends.

Jillian did try. Everyone noticed and encouraged her as best they could. They delighted in seeing her spend time with Michael-Gabriel and L'ann. She made meetings and calls and several trips to Heaven's Silver City.

She did not go into the inner garden to the Sacred Stone. Everyone thought she had made it over the hardest hurdle and was moving on at last. What she was doing was accepting that Michael did not live but his genetics did. And…there was a deeply guarded secret about Helena's children.

It involved a program that she had founded and operated. It had been very successful in seeding the population of Helena. The world was too depleted of humanity after the Extermination Wars and more than just typical births were required to repopulate. She used her skill to perform artificial insemination. She also returned mature women, past the childbearing years to fertility to harvest more diversity into the DNA. Many could even carry their children to term with precise and creative hormone replenishing.

But most secret was her facility in the mountains East of Helena. There, she spearheaded Helena's human cloning facility. It was why she was perfect for working at David Whele's lab creating angel/human hybrids. That proved to be unnecessary and doomed, but many were born of her work in the cloning facilities for humanity.

The sperm for A I was collected in the brothels of Helena and in the brothels the men and women of Helena operated in other cities for that purpose. Her compound had facilities to raise fertilized eggs to infancy. They were moderately successful. There was a high mortality rate in that work. They had better success in the cloning. They had created hundreds of infants and in special schools for 'orphans' they were educated and raised to maturity.

The leaders of Helena would use these mature and educated 'orphans' as bargaining tools. They would provide these of age, child producing husbands and wives in exchange for technologies or goods and so broaden humanity's gene pool and increase the healthy population faster than was possible otherwise. It also made Helena more powerful than many ever realized.

The program had ended just prior to her assignment to the lab where she'd met Michael. Her thought now was if she could not have Michael as he was, she would have him none- the- less. She would produce a clone of him. She recalled how that idea had fascinated her originally. She knew now there were risks, but she didn't care. However his nature developed, she would be at his side.

She contacted the medical personnel she would require to run the program. She was in her office making plans via satellite telephone when Raphael overheard her intentions and burst in. "Jilli-an end your plotting!" Jillian addressed the person on the other end of the line. "The plan has been exposed, we cannot move forward at this time. Be well." She hung up the phone to take her due reprimand. Raphael did not hold back, " You will not create Michael, you will create one who will appear as your Michael, but he will be devoid of his experiences and thoughts."

"I will be there to mold him, he will become as Michael, I know it!" Jilli-an said revealing the errors in her suppositions born of her desperation. Raphael's great compassion was all that kept him from striking her down in fury at her stubborn and radical actions. "Please, sister, you must let him go. Father and Mother have a plan and we must trust in that. Will you?"

Jillian was ashamed. Her actions certainly indicated a lack of faith in the will of her parents to do what was best for the greater good. "I want to, Raphael but I cannot make my heart accept that I will never again see Michael, feel his touch, be embraced by his essence. Does no one comprehend the hollowness of my being without him?"

"Jilli-an, we have all known loss, but your blending with Michael is unique. Perhaps no one but Father and Mother know what you feel…the depth of it. But they would not ask you to bear it, if they believed there was another way to their purpose. They would never easily choose to be without Michael….and Gabriel. Both… gone at once? Think beyond the pain of your heart. Think as our parents might. There must be something enormous afoot for this to have come to pass. " Then Raphael slipped from compassion to the thoughts of an archangel…a warrior and said, " You would do well to be physically and mentally prepared for what must surely be at hand." He could see this was not the way to address Jillian's need and back tracked. "At any rate, sister, do your best to move forward and remember, you aren't alone."

Xxxx

Difficult months later, Raphael had come once again to visit Jillian and the children. L'ann had gone missing. She had been playing hide and seek with Michael-Gabriel and had done an excellent job of secreting herself away. For the first time in many weeks, Jillian ventured into the central garden accompanied by Raphael where they found L'ann scrunched beneath the boughs of the twin paperbark birches.

While there, Raphael noticed a plant she had never seen anywhere before. Notable since Raphael knew every growing thing everywhere. It was prolific in its leafiness, which was not unusual, but the color was. The leaves were blue with red veining. "Jilli-an, what is this plant you have?" Jillian walked to the leafy herb. "Hmm. I have no idea!"

"Do you mind if I take a sample of it?" Raphael asked. Jillian, lifting Michael-Gabriel out of the fish pond, just nodded to Raphael to do as she wished. Raphael took clippings and stored them for later scrutiny. As she walked, her foot tapped the metal cylinder bearing instructions and formulae that had been thrown by Michael from his world into this one months earlier. Raphael bent to see what she had tapped but the object was pushed further under cover and Raphael, distracted by her sister and her nephew's antics disregarded the bump thinking it was probably just a sprinkler nozzle.

The odd plant Raphael sampled was born of a seed from Michael's world which had hitched a ride on the cylinder. It liked the rich soil of the garden and flourished. Jillian removed the wiggling fish from Michael-Gabriel's hands and returned the alarmed creature to its peaceful pool. She pulled his wet shirt off and looked at his chest's marking. She began then to believe that was the only Legacy Emblem possible. The thought that then crossed her mind was not reasonable. Did Michael mean for her to open that?

The old feelings of frustration, confusion, and longing bordering on madness began to resurface. Being in proximity to the white stone, she felt Michael - mentally, physically, spiritually, and her need for him soared in everyway without possibility of reward. She struggled to distract herself, to regain the leveled spirit Asencha's kind lesson and Raphael's chastisement had helped her achieve…it seemed the reprieve was to have been brief. She became possessed as one lost of connections here and now…lost of place , lost of home,lost of family. Nothing mattered. All she wanted… was Michael.

While Raphael played with L'ann, Jillian walked with Michael-Gabriel down to the white stone. She placed him next to the sigil on the left side of the monument and studied the two side by side. She could see no relationship in the markings. She was a bit rough handling the child. Raphael noticed, but held her reserve. She watched the mother and child carefully. Michael-Gabriel saw the sigil and thought perhaps to sample the material by taste would reveal greater information than his regular senses. To that end, he promptly licked it and fell to a trance. Jillian remembered her place , refocused by concern for her child or was she? Raphael heard Jillian's apparent alarm at his collapse and flew there with L'ann.

Jillian picked Michael-Gabriel up intending to carry him to the daybed under a grapevine trellis at edge of the gardens. The child quickly came to on the spot and was giggling. "What is funny, darling?" Jillian asked, relieved the boy was seemingly alright but obviously suspecting something had happened. She kept shaking him to get his answer. Michael-Gabriel was still dazed and he mumbled his response to his Mother's insistence, "The mirror man."

"What is a mirror man?" asked Raphael as she gently removed the child from Jillian's anxious demand and checked him for any medical issues that might require healing. Finding none, she gave his response full attention. "The man with my face." The boy giggled groggily.

"You saw a man with your face?!" Jillian queried, a bit too frenzied to conceal at the anticipated prospect. The boy laughed again, "Yes, Mother."

"Did he speak to you, Mich-iel?"Jillian pressed herself close to her child getting by Raphael and holding him by his shoulders. She stared deeply into his eyes for any trace of meaning he might leave unspoken. She held him too tightly. Michael-Gabriel was more himself now. Please, Mother, you're hurting my arms. Jillian released a bit and asked again, "What did you here, Michael-Gabriel? Did he speak?!"

"No Mother, he didn't speak, but I heard him in my mind. I heard 'Open the Emblem of Legacy' in every language. Then I was in your arms and no longer saw or heard him. How is it that he has my face, Mother?" Tears streamed down Jillian's face. "Actually, now that I think of it, he looked like the pictures of Father. More like that. Was that my Father? Do you keep him within the stone, somehow, Mother? Is there physical, chemical, biologic , multi-plex or other unknown-to- me science to describe the process to this? I would like to learn."

"What else did you hear? Did you see anything else?" Jillian was almost hysterical in her persistence. She was shaking her child again as if to wring out every ounce of information he'd gleaned. Raphael disengaged her giving her a scowl which prompted her to regain composure. She answered her child's request for learning.

"I will teach you as soon as I understand it, Mich-iel." She hugged her child, finally truly happy he was alright. Yes she was happy he was alright but she was also happy he had just confirmed something was contacting them and it appeared to be Michael. She smiled up at Raphael who looked on incredulously and a bit suspicious of Jillian's conduct and motives. She had come to know of a darker side to Jilli-an's longing and grief and wondered what she might turn to next in her quest for Michael. Especially now.

Xxxx

Within the place between the place between places, Michael sat frozen, speechless, breathless from his realization. His son had just visited him. It was marvelous to have seen him. He half laughed and half wept in a tearless way…too stunned to actually produce tears. When he recovered, he wrote in the detailed journal he'd begun. He was writing when Gabriel arrived with his bounty of this world's version of fish. It tasted like pork in the standard world. Gabriel liked pork and was delighted with his catch.

"Get busy, Brother! We feast tonight! A bit early in the day to be Journaling, is it not?" Gabriel observed as he walked over to see what Michael was writing…the fish dripping all across the room. "I'm not in the mood for fish bacon, brother." Michael said as he looked up from the page to make an annoyed face at Gabriel's sloppiness. "What!? Fish drip, Michael. Accept it." He said annoyed with Michael's annoyance.

"Read." Michael said, indicating the journal and sliding it into Gabriel's sphere of vision. Gabriel leaned over the book and read Michael's words. "Brother, truly?! Your son? A son! Congratulations, Michael!" He went to hug Michael who ducked away from the fishy embrace grunting a negative, "Unh!"

"Really, Michael, even now, with your neat-nick obsession?"

"You are filthy, Gabriel. You haven't washed in days and now, the fish…?"

"Gah, you are more maddeningly annoying daily. Please get us out of here!" Gabriel raised his arms and beseeched anything or one who would listen…flopping the increasingly sliming fish as he gestured to the sky.

Michael, mouth open in aghast disbelief, shook his head at the extra mess Gabriel was producing. "Gabriel!" He said , clearly intending to chastise his brother for his slime spreading actions.

"What, huh…what? The little fishies trouble the great big archangel?" Gabriel began taunting Michael with a fish tail, waving it as if he were about to swat Michael in the face. Michael batted Gabriel's arm away. Gabriel swung the opposite hand containing an even larger fish. Michael ducked the bony fish tail, did a squatting spin taking out Gabriel's legs from under him with the pop of a wing swat.

Gabriel sprawled onto the sticky, wet, fishy ooze floor. "Why you…" Up he shot , fish in hand, pinning Michael to the floor, as he had slipped in the fish snot and was off balance. Gabriel began swatting Michael in the face repeatedly with the fish tail as Michael sputtered the nasty slime the antagonized fish skin generated. With his leg bent under Gabriel, Michael used his positioning to fling his brother across the room with a kick. The fish flew one way, Gabriel the other.

Some long while later, the lovely residence was completely torn asunder. Brothers draped, exhausted against a wall, legs, arms, wings spent and woven in a physical dyad of archangel tomfoolery. Michael looked at the mess and sighed exasperatedly, leaning his head back against the wall with a huff. Gabriel moaned at the reconstruction task ahead and picked pieces of fish scale off of his arm and chest . Michael blew aside the thin fish backbone that draped annoyingly from his head along the side of his face before he thought to just remove it. He plucked the skeleton from his head and threw it at Gabriel's head. Gabriel batted it away mid-flight. Neither brother spoke as they untangled and rose from the floor. Their frustration burned off, they began picking up debris. Gabriel spoke first, thinking of the Journal's entry, "Huh, a son? I'm an Uncle, ha!" Michael smiled a soft acknowledgment of his brother's excited pride over his and Jilli-an's son having made him an Uncle.

Xxxx

Jillian was making connections between her experience and Michael-Gabriel's. She pulled the information from her mind as if physically extracting the firing neurons. Both were family, genetically related, both had fluid contact with that sigil on the stone, both had fallen unconscious during contact, both had seen Michael. Both had received the same message. It was not a fluke. Michael was contacting them. Grief had nothing to do with it. Genetics did, fluid genetics did….Legacy… it had to be a genetic match…fluid genetics. But they weren't holding the passage open long enough. There was more to it. What? What was she missing? What would hold open a genetically keyed sigil lock?

She poured over the puzzle, she stopped eating againall together, spending every minute in the central garden with the memorial white stone. One afternoon, she decided to lick the sigil, as Michael-Gabriel had done. She fell into the empty living room of the natural residential hollow of the enormous metal-like tree's cavern. She fell back through almost immediately. She squinted her eyes as she hatched a plan of action; an action of desperation.

Xxxx

"Michael?" Gabriel began the conversation loudly as Michael was about to engage an unsuspecting fowl creature to dispatch quickly for their evening meal. There were no others of Michael and Gabriel's kind here or of a hominid kind at all. The creatures had become wary of the great carnivores in their midst and were developing evasive tactics designed specifically to evade archangel pouncery. They were becoming a challenge. Michael liked that. He admired them for it. He did not admire Gabriel's untimely interference. "What… now, Brother? You just startled your evening chicken. His blood is up. He won't be suitable anymore, we'll have to find another." Michael complained.

Brother, the bushes fairly walk on the legs of the multitudes of such as he here. If we cannot find another….oh, look there is one. "

"Be still then, least my rumbling belly be you dinner companion."

"I hardly think there is any risk of that." Gabriel's retort flushed the second meal candidate.

"You are the most insufferable…" Gabriel looked on at Michael waiting for his not-so-complementary assessment with a mock shocked expression then giggled when Michael stopped mid-sentence.

"Fine, you hunt your own fowl…I'm in the mood for a Ratatouille anyway."

"What?! Vegetables again! Really, Michael what's the point of being ONE of the universe's greatest archangel warriors if you're going to munch zucchini for your meals? "

"Feast as you will…just keep out of my feathers, Gabriel." Michael said…both brothers recalling their last explosive reaction to the others' aggravation, the week it took them to repair and refurnish their home… and the length of time it took for the fish goo to wash out of their feathers. Michael presented his great wings to fly elsewhere but was halted by his brother's hand on his arm. "I'll furnish the meal, Michael, why don't you fly to the coast for a long swim before dinner. As Gabriel's cooking had improved markedly, Michael accepted, "Thank you, Gabriel."

He flew to this world's great sea shore, and dove deep into its embrace. He used his wings as a fish would use fins to propel himself and undulated his body to maximize the efficiency of his progress through the dense liquid. He swam for a while studying the beauty of the undersea world. He swam along the neon bright coral reefs and the undersea mountains that were not stark as on earth, but were as green and lush as surface mountains ranges.

The kelp-like undersea tree forests were full of life. Salts settled in places on the mountains giving the appearance of snow drifts but they were mostly pink, like Himalayan salt. There were Sulphur springs that formed yellow chimneys the height of skyscrapers…fields of them stretched for miles interspersed with other evidence of geothermal activity. Underwater geysers caught their spray over mountain edges from which they then flowed like waterfalls as their eruption of more densely weighted fluid cascaded over the obstruction.

Multi-colored sea life scuttled everywhere. Swimming, crawling, slithering and jetting about. When his sight- seeing had quieted his inner beast, Michael began a martial arts routine underwater. It looked like water ballet, despite the lethal duty it truly served. He enjoyed the extra tension the dense water's resistance demanded from his muscles. The slower movement of his forms allowed him to correct small imperfections he would have otherwise missed in the swiftness allowed in air movement. He lingered until finally he required a breath but he had restored his peace and so flew to dinner.

Gabriel had made a real feast. There was the roast fowl and the savory vegetable medley along with a kernelled vegetable that was like a cross between sweet corn and a sunflower seed but had the consistency of bread. It was a favorite of theirs for the taste and the smooth but firm texture that had a nutty flavor and a gentle crispiness when toasted. The wine was poured . "Brother this is marvelous, " Michael complimented. "Gabriel , aproned and oven mitted to carry the roasted meat to the table said, "Your swim has done well by you. Sit and enjoy, Brother!" Michael did. Gabriel joined him. They talked and laughed and the meal and wine worked their magic bringing joy and contentment to the days end. But the meal wasn't all there would be.

Today was the anniversary of the brother's making and so Gabriel presented his brother with a gift, saying, "Never forget, Michael, you are not alone in any of the places you must travel."

"Brother, I'd forgotten it was the anniversary of our being made. I have no gift for you." Michael was annoyed with himself for his selfishness. "I should have at least prepared the meal. I'm sorry, Gabriel. Forgive me?" He meant for more than just forgetting their Making Day. He meant for the long abandonment while he wrestled with his darkness, for the hours of missing Jilli-an and his frustrated outbursts.

"Michael, you never need forgiveness from me, I am your brother and honored to be that and so am a port for you in any storm." Michael embraced his brother. I love you, Brother and I am grateful for your depth of heart." The brothers smiled and Gabriel indicated for Michael to unwrap the papyrus type paper of his gift. Michael removed the paper to find a splendid pair of new blades.

Gabriel hadn't been idle during the time Michael was away. For weeks he'd scoured the land for his brother's whereabouts but also for useful and suitable raw materials. He was stunned at the quantity and qualities of the metals that were seated in veins within the rock of a particular region. They were dense and so strong and had an almost crystalline quality to the surface. It gave the appearance of diamond metal. He'd created a forge and smelting equipment that allowed him to manipulate the ore. It required such heat to work that he had to burn other metals as fuels to work the new metal. With his ingenious new smelting process and with the extraordinary metals of this place he created weapons for them.

He fashioned his own sword from the diamond metal and kept it with its natural bright sheen. For Michael's blades, he fired the metal until it blackened creating a black diamond metal for the blade. It still flashed as it was wielded because of the diamond-like quality. He knew Michael favored simplicity but he couldn't resist the red metal he'd found as inlay for the grip. He fashioned a symbolic wing inlay with it ..one wing inlaid to the outer grip of each blade. He'd also found a kind of silvery ivory metal material that behaved almost as a thread and so allowed him to add a helix weave scrolling down the blade's back ending in a point of pin striping ¾ of the way down the blade at the peak of the blade flourish point before it tapered to the sharp of the blade tip.

He'd originally given Michael twin blades to honor his day of making and to always keep foremost in his mind, he was never alone…that he always had his twin brother to be by his side, in Father's service, in battle and in every challenge their lives required. He did this for the same reasons now. He felt Michael needed to be reminded. He fashioned them to the same weight and fine balance and shape of Michael's favorite twin blades. Michael handled them with admiration. "These are incomprehensibly splendid. You've out done yourself, Gabriel! Thank you!"

"Let us see how they perform!" Gabriel drew his sword. "Out- of- doors, perhaps? " Michael suggested with a glint of anticipation in his eye for the epic contest they were about to engage. A perfect Making Day. A meal, a magnificent gift and a battle. They flew far and wide and enjoyed one another's skill and creative fighting techniques. It was marvelous! Until they came to the edge of a place of massive devastation. Michael gasped in horror and shame at the sight before them. He had not realized where they had wandered.

"What in worlds happened to this place?" Gabriel saw his brother's reaction. "Ah. You happened, Michael. How?" He asked as he starred out in stunned horror over the unfathomably fractured physical world before him. They looked out on thousands of miles of dead, blackened wasteland. It fairly dripped in every kind of radioactivity and crackled with odd phenomena and was strewn with raw forms of matter bits.

"I…." Michael was face to face with what he'd left in his wake during his year of solitude and he could barely manage the emotion.

"Michael, tell me of this." Gabriel was gravely concerned for his brother. " You cannot carry this… time in your heart unaddressed. Let me share it."

Michael realized the truth of Gabriel's assessment. They flew to the peak of a nearby onyx mountain that held its place well in the blackened landscape. They sat on a smooth ledge as the night began to settle…but not here, here there was an eerie blue-green glow slashed by streaking multiple red lightening running across the sky and an ion storm on the horizon that added the buzz and crack of its wind and sonic disruptions. The air was dry to the point of burning sensitive eyes and nostrils, but moisture leached up from the ground creating a violet mineral stained mist that clung like a shawl on the land. It was almost beautiful in a primal, savage way and except for the apparent lifelessness of the place.

Michael began. "It is difficult, Brother. I have fallen to a greater low than ever was imagined. I fear I will shock you." Gabriel looked at Michael then at the landscape before them…"More that this?! " Gabriel indicated what lay before them. Michael released a deep sigh and said, "Possibly."

"Then, by all means, you must speak it to be free of it." Gabriel counselled. Michael began slowly, "I left the house that night we…talked. I was not in command of myself. I was distraught with the knowledge of being the source of The Darkness, Gabriel. I had worked all of my life to contain the force of it within me, never realizing that it WAS me. Not the way your words made it clear it was.

I was angry and so weary of the effort. I gave in to it. I was a beast and so I lived as a beast. I abandoned all discipline and let the thing inside me hold sway." Michael recalled how he had become as an animal…a mindless creature of instinct. His mind could not grapple with its own truth, so he abandoned his thought to his basic and darkest impulses. He ravaged the land and its inhabitants, ripping and tearing life and limb from the living things he encountered, eating them alive, raw for his meals. Everything here feared him and hid but he hunted them and took their lives for pleasure.

He continued his tale, "As time passed, I let the Darkness take me more and more until finally it allowed nothing in my presence to survive. I could not get food or water. They wasted to a carbon char even before my touch. Everything did. I was starving to death, in an indescribable pain…emotional and physical. I finally decided to release all of the Darkness within. Let it live free and I hoped it would end me.

The power of it spilled forth and ripped the fabric of space/time. It cracked the surface of the place I was and for a thousand miles drew it's life energy as fuel and transformed its matter. The energy of that opened an event horizon and I decided to enter it. To find whatever was there for me." Michael paused. Gabriel encouraged his reluctant saga, " Go on, Michael."

"The passage nearly tore my body asunder. I've never experienced anything like it save maybe the Tablet of Unmaking. It was like that. Ripping layers of atoms away, robbing me for its own purpose. Somehow I emerged into a quiet place of…nothing. There was nothing…no creation had been applied there. I went everywhere. There was no gravity or time passage markers, save my mind's clock. So how long I was there is estimation at best, but it was long enough to travel the expanse. Here it was only one year's passage, I found later.

The place I'd entered, was a place not as large as our Universe. There were no multiple dimensions, no places between anything. In all of that universe, I was all there was. Me and the bits of me my passage took and scattered about there. You would think that should disturb me, but I was relieved. I could do no harm. It was the perfect fit. Darkness for Darkness. My own private oblivion except… I was still me. I could see the event horizon I'd formed was ripping matter from this world and spewing it into that… Darkness. It made me… angry. I didn't want the pollution of the world that was causing me so much pain to invade my Darkness haven.

My anger fired an energy. It began drawing more of this world into that. I thought of you, Gabriel. The thought of you being ripped from your life here and shredded into this one. I decided to stop the event. I wanted nothing in the moment but to heal the rift. Apparently my thoughts were also of the rift between us, because I passed back through and watched as the tear in this universe to that one knitted, stranding me here once more, amidst this utter destruction. Toward the center of this place, where the tear formed, the destruction was overwhelming. I feared more for your life than ever, but seeing what I had wrought, I also feared what horror I would cause in your presence. I lingered here, until I was certain I was stable. Behold my shame, Gabriel."

Gabriel did look, but with eyes different from Michael's pain. It WAS beautiful…different…altered but beautiful. He saw a leafy something emerging from under the char. The radioactivity lashed at it flickering like a firefly. Instead of dying the leafy thing set a bloom. Gabriel watched as the animated bloom lofted a seed that flew on its own wings to light in another spot. "Look, Michael. Have you ever seen that plant before?"

"No, never."

"I think you created it with this free roaming matter soup," He pointed to the mist…"again you've created."

"I destroyed this place, all of its thriving life. Whatever small thing grows of it, it is an abomination!"

"Perhaps, but some creation, no matter how small or derived - That is something not altogether… Dark."

"This is the abomination of re-creation, Gabriel! Believe me, it was all conceived in the grips of the most utter Darkness." Michael covered his face with the palms of both hands and rubbed as if to erase the things he'd recounted. He sighed out the words, "I'm weary, Brother. I shall take my dishonor to retire."

"It is time…but I shall remain here for a bit if you don't mind."

Michael wearily gestured with his hands in an 'it's all yours' indication and flew toward the gentle sweetness of the actual night. Gabriel nurtured and mulled the theory that had begun to form in his mind. His brother went to an uncreated universe. But something about _**time**_ kept ringing. Suddenly, as if planted there waiting for this moment to spring on him, his theory burst forth. Michael had not gone to a different place, but he had traveled in time. Backwards. To before Father and Mother.

It was his theory that Michael was the spark for life in the Universe….this Universe. He'd been the key for the birth of creation and for his own parents. Michael was Father and now Mother by his new genetics. His atoms, his gene pool had flowed with other matter, minerals, metals, water vapor, stardust. Bits of time flowed in and blended with his bits of life. The time insinuated on the new space warped and shaped the unformed space. The gravity that formed created motion creating more gravity and compression and atoms bonded in the force of the gravity and eons later…life was born, extraordinary, primal beings were born of Michael's genetic presence and effects…Father and Mother. Michael was the key to creation!

Gabriel was awestricken by the thought. Should he tell Michael, though? He would have to consider that. Michael was the creative force who brought Light into the Darkness. He could do that because he was both. He was the seed of creation. Gabriel wondered if Father knew this. Surely Father had travelled in time to discover his source. Of course He knew. That was why they were left to be stranded here! This HAD to be. He marveled at his Father's wisdom and scope…and Mother's…he'd not gotten used to having Mother yet.

He would never not be amazed by the scope of his brother's importance and how little Michael realized his massive impact on …everything. Gabriel had always been a bit jealous. He'd always wondered why his Father had wept when he created Michael and not anyone else. Why it was always Michael who was the "Gift He never expected." Father wept for the existence of Michael later, too. When Michael had done some little something with…oh…it was when he was studying power frequencies and had nearly shattered Father's library and a block of the Silver City with a…time bending error in a travel warp he accidently formed.

Father was so impressed, Gabriel remembered, but at the same time, he had wept. Then Michael was restricted from the study he'd undertaken until he'd made repairs. Knowing Michael, he likely never stopped thinking of the error and how to correct it, especially since it had made Father shed tears. Was that when Michael had happened on the sciences to reach this place? That is very likely when Father himself knew how Michael would reach beyond the here and now. The day Father discovered how the key to his own origin would turn.

Gabriel recalled Father had been oddly quiet and thoughtful for some time after the day he wept. Everyone thought He'd wept for the Library losses. The loss of recorded thought was a terrible thing. Father didn't weep often. When He did…everyone knew…everyone remembered. His tears had been gathered and stored in a vault. Gabriel had the key to the vault and charge of the rarities…they were holy treasures to heaven. The only holy treasure in which Michael's duty was superseded by Gabriel...that was significant. Michael was the cause of the Tears of the Almighty…both times. They were not tears of regret that last time as everyone assumed. They were tears of joy both times.

He recalled a conversation with Jilli-an about Father and Mother. She'd said they'd never told their children of their parent's creation…their origins. It eased his mind somewhat that was true since they had also not told the angels of their origins. Now he knew why. Until this event, their own inception was at risk of never coming to be! Michael was the key to their birth.

Gabriel had always been teased because one of his duties was Guardian of the Keys. Everyone always laughed that an Archangel was given the duty of 'messenger' as Father's Herald and to guard nothing more substantial than keys! Gabriel finally saw the true worth of his duty. It was not simple or an insult at all but an important honor. He had served it in his duty as Michael's twin, without ever realizing it. " I am Guardian of the Keys. Michael is a key, Father's tears are a Key to your relationship with Michael. I understand, Father and now have proof I alone was meant to know this. I will not share what I know with Michael but I will guard your treasured key, until you give word."

What a gift this mind of his was that he could unravel that. What a great deed his Father gave him, what an honor his Father paid him, protecting the Key to his creation! He said a prayer of gratitude to his Father for that, and for Michael. He thought a moment more reviewing the conclusions he'd made until, with a casual "humph" not at all adequate for what Gabriel had just thought through, he set flight to the place that was the twin brothers' home. The home away from home Michael had founded in this place between the place between places… where all things began.

xxxx

Jillian had become so desperate for Michael's presence she had formed a deranged plan. She had stayed her hand from it for months trying to find another way that made sense. Frustrated with a lack of other possibilities, one day when she was alone at home with Michael-Gabriel, she attempted her plan. She told Michael-Gabriel that she wanted to see how he was growing to his father's size. She lifted him to the top of the white stone's face. "Lie down, Mich-iel, let us see how you are catching up to your father's height." The beautiful child looked compassionately at his mother who was mad, lost within her grief. He could sense her deception, but he did not tell her. Jillian waited while he laid himself across his father's imprint.

Michael-Gabriel knew his purpose here. The child of Jillian and Michael, had inherited his mother's empathy and his father's nobility of heart. He lay with his eyes closed ready to be sacrificed for the love of his Mother and Father, so that they could be reunited and end his Mother's torment. He had seen that torment and felt it every day of his young life. If his Mother believed he could provide the end of that, he would apply his life to that purpose. How truly like his Father he was. Jillian recognized that. She felt it with her soul. Her soul which had been as unmoving and unaware as the stone she poured her love over…was about to pour the blood of this wonder of her life's making over. She steeled herself to her self- assigned duty born of her tragedy and tortured heart. She stood with her blade ready. His blood would set Michael free, she believed. More fluid genetics would hold the sigil lock open longer, it had to.

In the moment the blade was to fall, Michael-Gabriel heard his Mother regain her soul's light, her strength reignited. She uttered her decision, "No!" The child opened his eyes and for the first time in his life sensed his Mothers heart of hearts, felt, unrestrained, her love for him. Jillian opened her heart beyond her love of Michael and chose to honor the life of Michael-Gabriel wholly. She chose to bear the pain of the loss of her beloved that their child, this extraordinary, unique blessing would continue.

Michael –Gabriel had the greatest compassion for his Mother's struggle. For her love of his father, he would have let his life be ended. They both sacrificed in the most noble way for the other. Their bond was forged in the fire of their mutual love. The love of Mother and child was, at last alive in its fullest. Michael-Gabriel would honor that all of his life. So would Jilli-an who knew her son had seen her choice, knew he had felt the blossoming of her heart's warmth.

But she would also bear the shame of having gone so far as this. In the moment before she lowered her sword, her parents entered the garden and disarmed her and swept her child away to perceived necessary safety. That she had gone this far was terrible enough to deserve whatever befell her. Her parents were furious with her. They opened the Legacy Emblem themselves and brought Michael and Gabriel through the lock into traditional existence.

Their salvation was secured, they were free at last. But they arrived to a new horror. Instead of the joyous reuniting Michael had dreamed this would bring, he was faced with more devastation of his own making . Gabriel was not surprised by the revelation of Jillian's act of desperation. He understood the tendency to use the helpless for a greater purpose. He had done such things, possessing others to have them murder in his behalf. But Michael could not imagine his mate's thinking. Gabriel stayed by Michael for support as Father and Mother ruled on the matter. They discussed the crime and then Father spoke:

"Jilli-an that you would make such a sacrifice of dearest life not yours to give, for Michael, is abhorrent in the Chronicle of the Honored. You shall be fallen! Cast out! Fallen from Grace! I command it. You will be bound of humanity. You shall live lives …many lives. So that you shall know what it is to be truly broken of heart and spirit, you will fail regardless of your skill and knowledge and never know why you fail and you shall know every life childless until you learn the value of such a blessing."

Jillian swallowed hard, "Yes, Father, your will be done." I am not yet finished, child. While this seems to be an act of justice seated in justifiable anger, you must fail in these lives to such a degree that you will discover that nobility and honor can persist in its face. It will open you to forgive yourself in time. But you have much more to learn than that.

I condemn you as you come of age, to always recall him you love most dear only to see him part from you in all ways in all times from this time until you have been redeemed by service and by learning how your betrayal feels to Michael, so that you can forgive him for what you see and feel from him now. Father said to her sternly but with a hint of compassion, "You must learn to thrive in his absence, for even he will end. You must learn to be strong again without him, even as he is part of you."

"Yes, Father." She would bare all the punishment He saw fit to levy. Her child was safe and loved, her love was home again and secure. If she had come so close to sacrificing her child that her parents could not discern the change of heart, she had gone too far, regardless. Her Father continued, "For you to have been ready to sacrifice your own child together with him to have him in your life is unconscionably wrong. You saw that he lived, that he was safe. You knew that he loved you still. That should have been enough to bolster you long enough to allow time to unravel your separation. I could not be more shocked and disappointed by this failure, this revelation of such a great flaw. What were you thinking, child?"

She explained her thought process leading up to the near sacrifice, " That this world needed him as much as I did. That perhaps Michael-Gabriel was meant to be the bridge to bring Michael home and that with Michael here, another child could be born to bring your new children forth." As she spoke it she could see clearly the ghastly nature of her mind's nearest failure. She wept at the savagery of her misguidedness having gone so far.

Michael hung his head from the weight of the dishonor to all that this was…all he thought she was. His shame and brokenness at having not communicated the complete instruction well enough to her to save her this was deep. Jilli-an continued the bitter truth, "Without him, I did not exist whole of myself. I lost all reason. It was as being apart from your own Light, Father. A torment. It can make one mad, to be severed , heart from soul. My life's every moment was like climbing Everest with half a lung. I craved the air to save my life. Now I am ashamed and I fear that great love and its workings; the depths to which it can crush you. I would cut it from me to spare what I put my dear child through… Is he safe?"

"He is with Raphael."

"Good…that is good."

Michael's tears flowed to see the pain of his beloved, to know how she had suffered in his absence, how she would suffer because of her love for him and for her misunderstanding of his intent. He had failed in this way before. He misunderstood his Father's intentions for his duty regarding The Flood. He had committed atrocities. Immeasurable atrocities. Worse still, he took pleasure in the savagery he committed undertaking it. Though it gave her no pleasure, yet, Jilli-an's transgression was grave. For her to think he would have her sacrifice their dear child and that for him she would do it… it was tragic and shameful. It was as well they would be separated now. He would not be able to face her, to continue as they had been. He would never trust her.

As if on cue to his thought his Father spoke, "Michael you will have a choice. You bear no fault in this, but what you face is the deepest emotional grief at the loss of Jilli-an to your life. A death of love. You are blended, a unique bond that makes you inseparable and it is intense beyond commonality by its nature. I offer this out of love for you both, to restore you, to free you of the lack of understanding for her actions that will be the seed of hate in you.

To be bound as you are to Jilli-an to live with hate for her would destroy you…destroy you both. You will be unable to forgive her if you chose to remain, but you will always love her. You will despise her for that. Or, you may be bound as humanity and follow her lives. You will learn the pain of loss and the depths to which it will drive you . It will not be easy, I warn you, but you will learn to forgive her, to accept her in all her perfection and flaws and your love will be honored once more. Choose, my son.

Michael was filled with confusion. He loved her more than life but couldn't access that now. What she was going to do was unthinkable, unforgivable. Did she deserve forgiveness for what she would have taken from him? His struggle was etched on his person. Then his thought was this: it was not what she would have taken from him, but what she was willing to sacrifice of herself of her soul for love of him. He could not leave her alone with that if there was a way around it, knowing how she loved him helped him remember in his stunned vacuum how he loved her, how love was meant to guide one. He decided, "I will be bound, Father." Gabriel staggered back with his upset at his brother's answer, "Michael, no…Brother!"

"Be still, Gabriel. I know this will be difficult for you, but you will be called to great service to aid you with Michael's absence. And so Michael and Jilli-an, you will both learn much…to forgive one another and yourselves. You will not recall who or what she is to you, Michael but as she searched longingly for you, you will for her. You will find her. You will feel the draw of her, as you will never be able to deny that but you will lose her repeatedly. When you have longed for her well enough to understand and forgive her transgression, when you know the pain and the extent it will madden you, when you know the starvation of spirit to which she refers, you will be released so that you may both begin again. On the way, you will accomplish much and learn many great things and grow by this immeasurably. My gift to you for your choice to honor love."

Jillian was shocked by her Father's plan, "Father! This is diabolical! Mother, please?!" To have Michael within her arms reach, to know she would lose that again, possibly for eons, tore at her shattered sanity. But she could grasp this: Michael had done nothing wrong. She was willing to bear the punishment for what she nearly did, but it was too terrible that he should bear any of the weight of it. Even in her ruined state, her love for him was such that she did not want him to suffer the personal anguish she felt now. "Michael has no fault in this, spare him! Do not make him pay for my weakness. Do not let him know this I feel, I beg you!"

Her Mother steeled herself, then responded to her daughter's plea, "Jilli-an, I will not intervene. Clearly you have much to learn of great love, daughter. I fear it came to you both too soon. If you and Michael are ever to have each other again, he must do this. Michael is your way back. He is the key which will undo your fallen grace. Be content to know he is willing. His love will free you both in time. He is your heart's treasure, I know, and this…"

"He is the breath of my soul , Mother. You and Father breathed him into me and now I am to exist with him here,"she tapped her chest," and here" she tapped her head , and never here, "she held out her arms. I am a broken soul as crazed as the pitiful Lucifer was. You should destroy me and free Michael. You are the rock against which we all break ourselves, beloved."

With that last statement, finally she looked at him. She had been too ashamed to before… and it was now that she saw the real distance between them in his expression of shock and however sorrowful and compassionate he felt, there was also disgust. " And I see, we are at our end. " She had thought to tell them all the truth of the moment, to keep Michael from this fate, but no one would have believed it. The damage was to nearly done to undo it now. If she had come so close as to have her parents not see her choice not to follow through, she had indeed come too close and deserved punishment. She would accept the cost and the additional curse of causing another's anguish and punishment for no actual fault. Her burden was heavy; her sorrow immeasurable.

Her head was reeling, but she had collected herself somewhat now and humbly addressed her family one last time. "I beg your forgiveness to have brought this upon you," she said looking at Michael and then sweeping her gaze to her parents she added, " all of you. I shall endeavor to improve and redeem my corruption and my wrong to you. Please, take me now Father." She could not bear the look in Michael's eyes, it cut too deeply. "I see the effects of my horror. I must pay for that and many things more. May I live and learn to serve you better, Father, Mother. Without looking at him she said in a barely audible whisper to Michael, "Farewell, my love…" She could not stop herself from glancing up at him just as she was departed.

She was gone. Cast to live a bound human life for a crime she did not commit, a failure she did not complete, but she did have to pay for bringing this on Michael and she would. She hoped she would hold only one grain of peace…that she would know her child knew the truth…but Father erased that comfort from her mind and everything else...

Father turned to Gabriel, " Say your farewells and return to the Silver City, Gabriel. Duty awaits."

"Well, Michael it is good we had these years together. Perhaps they will sustain us in the absence to come. You know, I have done nearly as awful things as she and I would have killed your Chosen One to bring you back to the family, to me. You've forgiven me." Gabriel finished with a raised eyebrow given to allow Michael to fill in the 'so surely you should forgive her'. He hugged Michael who was nearly to numb to return the embrace but eventually did so half- heartedly. Gabriel turned to leave and Michael realized the impending departure. "Gabriel, I will miss you." Michael said. "You won't, but thank you, Brother. Until we meet again." Gabriel finished his farewell and dimensionally jumped to the Silver City. "Michael said to empty air, "Goodbye, Brother." Father immediately thereafter , sent Michael to bide his lives as a bound of humanity.

In the wake of the sentence, the two Almighties were left to their own. Mother considered the situation. "You know she was not going to carry out the deed."

" Yes. Yet she was willing to bear the dishonor and pay this price, regardless. It is a great evidence of her capacity for self- sacrifice and respect for duty, honor and love. She has great strength to bear the ravages of injustice. It will teach her to be more aware of the many who do bear that burden and how the strength of it can become a victory in the face of defeat."

" She tried to keep you from punishing Michael. She loves him, as I love you," Said She Who Is.

"Michael has lessons to learn in this which he could not by any other means. It will serve him well to live bound and he will learn to forgive himself as he learns to forgive Jilli-an. He must learn to forgive himself, at last. I will tell them both that there was no transgression in time…when their lessons are in place. Such as this might have saved us eons of disagreement and ill will, beloved," He Who Is said.

"Perhaps. But I wouldn't change a thing between us, my love." Said She.

"At any rate, bound , they will be safe from the new threat we discovered while beyond The Veil, " Said He Who Is.

"You have placed an initiator?"

"Yes, when their lessons are complete and the threat has triggered the proper sequence, they will return to their great duties here."

"Will casting them thusly…into current bound lives …be enough to protect them?" She wondered.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Let us secret them in the past… to lives there. The threat will be brilliant of mind, so we must place as many barriers between it and finding Michael and Jilli-an as possible. Throw them back into the past where it will not think to search." She suggested.

"Brilliant, beloved!" The two smiled and focused together momentarily. " Done and done. We haven't much time to prepare, but Michael and Jilli-an will be ready when we need them." Said He.

She Who Is gazed into the future through her mind's eye with trepidation and added, "Yes, and we will need them."


	22. Chapter 22 Rivers in Time

Salvation

Chapter 22

Rivers in Time

Jillian thought about things a lot. Wild and crazy things. Not uncommon for the mid 1960's. Wild and crazy things were happening everywhere. She wondered if anyone else had the same thoughts, the same need to seek so many answers to so many feelings; the tugging wish to break free from something, though what it was she couldn't imagine.

It was midnight. She starred at the psychedelic poster on her ceiling. It was a swirling thing that had stars and insinuated space. She was fascinated with the celestial. She thought about being an astrophysicist…or a veterinarian. There were books on those subjects everywhere and a brochure on "What God Expects from Mankind" was crumpled on the floor by her desk.

The clock ticked to one minute past midnight. She was sixteen today. Sweet sixteen. There was going to be a party. Friends, family, friends of friends. Posters and black lights and strobe lights were hung in her family's two car garage, now effectively converted to a teen nightclub. The party was an exciting prospect. Her Dad was away on a business trip, but he'd be home in time to say Happy Birthday, she was certain.

With all of the preparations necessary and her presence at the party required, she'd have to miss the trip to the airport with her Mom to pick Dad up. She loved going to the airport terminal. She loved watching people traveling the world hurry to their destinations. She imagined a port from which, one day, they'd be traveling to other worlds just as casually. She loved the idea of travel. Anywhere and everywhere interested her, but flying…that was the thing she couldn't wait for-to see the world from the sky. It pulled at her, the need, the desire to be aloft…on wing. Flying up into what is beyond…to touch the face of ….

Her mind wandered deeper into the thing she was about to think to say. All of her life and now as she lay pondering her world, she found she desperately missed…God. She missed the face of God. Who missed God, she wondered? She didn't even believe in God. Science was all there was. There was no need to ingratiate one's self to an invisible, absent deity. How ridiculous she should miss that which never was. She leapt to another thought, since that one was absurd. Were all of these things she thought about different or were they all related somehow she just couldn't see?

She was so weird, she thought. Just before an event two days ago, at the speech she had to give for a club initiation ceremony, she'd been talking with the club's president and had a full blown déjà vu! She knew the whole conversation before it happened and as it happened, recalled the words the person in front of her was saying seconds before she said them. She was quite shaken from the experience and thought about the implications. Was she out of phase with this world somehow? What the hell _**was**_ that…mid-thought, she finally she dozed off to sleep. But her mind was not resting idly.

In a dream she saw herself as if watching and experiencing at the same time. She was dressed in robes. The cloth was fine but not rich. It was draped over her head in the style of the day. It was a rich color if not a rich cloth- deep purple. Her under robe was white with a sash over the shoulder of emerald. It was belted with deep purple cloth that had emerald embroidery scrolling the length of it. The hem of her white under robe had scrolling embroidery in the same deep purple of her head drape. Her shoes were simple leather sandals.

She felt gripped with fear. There were other fearful people all around her. They wept and wailed and held one another. They all stood on a sandy floor. Her eyes roved upward. She saw walls rising up to seating, like a sports arena and it held around her the throng of cheering, jeering people …many similarly robed in various colors and varying degrees of quality. She didn't know why she noticed the apparel. Maybe it was to distract from her overwhelming fear.

Suddenly the crowd went wild. Even over their din she could hear the screams of those around her. She felt so alone, so afraid. Suddenly, she felt a strong presence by her left side. The danger was approaching relentlessly closer from the front of her. She could smell the acrid scent of fear around her. It mixed with the perfumes of those in the crowd and the musty smell of the sand. Her knees buckled unable to hold her own weight from the terror that crept upon her. She found she was held to a gentle crumpling by the strength of an offered arm about her.

She studied the beautiful, masculine hand upon her, the distinctive veining to nourish the strength there, the muscling of the forearm. She felt his hip move in toward her at her side to hold her near and looked up glancingly. He was attired as a centurion in the Roman army. Maybe a higher officer , she sensed. The short fine cloth of the white skirting of his under frock was topped with gold metal body armor. His cape was full, flowing and deep red. It was elegant but simple. He was wealthy. What…why was he here unaccompanied? Why was she?

She watched from her kneeling position as he pushed away the compressing crowd. He was not angry, but he required their space. He moved with a grace only strength would allow. She caught his scent as he moved back into her. It was that of a man of substance and of the labors that brought him physical strength. He had eased her crumpling, but continued to stand as a man of his bearing would. Now, his hand was on her head in a caress of both compassion and dearest possession. Then he allowed it to fall to her shoulder. She looked up to see the face of this final kindness she would know.

Her gaze met strong blue eyes threaded with golden in which she could see eternity. She felt a profound connection, though she did not know him. He wore a neatly trimmed dark brown beard, that surrounded full lips. His long brown hair peeked beneath the helmet he wore. He was beautiful. She could see he had lived a life of privilege and of violence.

His hand slipped to her cheek and as he looked down at her, he spoke in a deep velvet voice filled with authority and confidence, "Do not be afraid." Then her attention was drawn to what lay before them. She saw severed limbs, the blood of the dead and mangled dying . Such senseless carnage, she thought. She made no sounds. She was not afraid. She saw the snarling maw and the great mane of a lion charging . She heard a single voice she could understand in the crowd's mayhem shout "filthy Christians!", then nothing.

She awoke breathless with the power and emotional reality of the dream. She sat fully upright. She collected her wits. "It was just a dream," she told herself. But she remembered the face. She laughingly mumbled, " Wow, if there was a devil and he wanted to drag me into temptation, that would be the guy." She fluffed her pillow and settled back into slumber.

That evening, at her 16th birthday party, she met her first love. He was physically strong, mentally brilliant with full expressive and inviting lips and blue eyes. They dated on and off through high school, finally ending things when she wouldn't commit to him. She wasn't ready. For a long time she felt like her life was over, but she plodded onward. She found new hope and a new interest in history. She devoted herself to the study.

She was a stellar student but it came to no good end. Somehow she just never knew the right people or said the right things. She was exceptional in college, but never inspired any mentor. She disappointed everyone it seemed, including herself. So much fruitless endeavor, she began to think, why bother. She was just a square peg in life's round world. But she was driven to know. She loved knowledge and sought it for its own sake. She thrived at being a student but failed at being a practitioner of her skills or of life – at least in every traditional way.

Just as she was graduating from university, an opportunity to work in her main field of interest, history, arose. She had come to love history because it was the study of everything and how it came to its present state. It was finally happening! A chance to work as historian in the National Park Service was a perfect fit. There would be beautiful places to travel and live, there would be the beauty of nature, there would be history and using her unique knowledge of sciences , still of compelling interest and pursuit. She would be able to use all of her skills to preserve the past and share it with others. She took the leap of faith that she would thrive in this work.

Some months later, she was at a training program in Grand Canyon, AZ. A group of fellow ranger students planned a visit to the Hopi Indian Reservation in the Mesa country outside of Flagstaff, AZ .The Hopi were having their spring ritual rites and dances for fertility. Most of the rangers were historians, archeologists or naturalists so the land , the customs and the people were fascinating to them. Jillian was no exception. She joined them.

They drove as far up the Mesa as was allowed, then walked the rest of the way. Once in the community atop the mesa, a native Hopi resident told them to situate themselves away from the dancers on a rooftop if they did not want to be subject to the laws which allowed a ritual dancer to choose a mate from the women surrounding them. A few of the group laughingly considered participating but later chose to climb to the rooftop. This was a serious ritual. They would treat it with respect.

The day was young and the morning air chilly. There were fire pits for people to warm themselves by. There was no electricity on the Mesa. Homes were lighted and heated by coal oil and most had lit their coal oil stoves. The drummers began their rhythmic beat and the dancers began filing into the large square below, all dancing in unison. It was a moving sight. As the huge group collected, Jillian scanned the Mesa. The homes were poor thin board walled cabins, but neat and cozy. Some had screened porches. The public buildings were adobe .

The scent of a newly lit coal oil fire wafted up. The smell intoxicated her. She felt dizzy. She staggered backward as another time and place filled her mind and senses. She heard an eagle call. She looked up and saw him soaring above and a white feather began to fall to the ground. She watched the eagle soar away, toward the cathedraled canyonlands beyond. Jillian could see the lithe and strong physical form of a man through the distortion of a burning fire. He came closer with the drums insistence in the background.

He stepped into the light thrown by the dance of fire, joy was on his face and she felt it in her heart as well. The joy leapt within her as if it were alive and separate from her person. He lifted her into his arms as if she were the feather that had fallen, so effortlessly was she carried away.

He was beautiful. He had an uncommon, masculine but delicately sculpted, appealingly asymmetrical face with distinctive cheekbones that rose high over the hollow of his smooth cheek. He had a graceful, strong neck all framed by dark hair, long, below his shoulders at the front and to his mid back. His hair hung , falling straight and silkily over a perfect broad and muscular bare chest. White eagle feathers were woven into the hair on his left.

His skin was tanned but fair, smooth and tight over his well- muscled, tall form. He had the bearing of an individual of privilege that had been earned. He moved with power and grace. He had set her in the furs and gone briefly. He returned to bring her a gift of turquoise beads. Woven onto the leather bound strand was a single white eagle feather which, she sensed, her high birth and his tribal standing permitted. He offered them with masculine, elegant hands infused with distinctive veining to nourish the strength there.

His eyes flashed with love and as he drew near, she could feel his passion for her. She felt it spring from him and around her, enveloping her, penetrating her as the room's fire danced and pierced through and became one with its fuel and its source. She was captivated, surrounded by him. Their desire smoldered as the coals did. He had the scent of a man honed by physical prowess and a life in the wild; woodsy, musky, sweet. He was of this land and of her heart.

He held her face and gazed longingly, lovingly into her eyes. She could not tell the color of his eyes. They seemed black but a fire not of this place burned within. When the flames of the lighting fire leapt his eyes shown light…they were… blue. It seemed natural to her that she would not be able to know the color, as if it were normal that sometimes they were one color and the next moment another.

She gazed on him and through him in an ever growing, seeking- for discovery of his mystery. Then, she couldn't continue her journey into him by sight, because his full lips were on her lips and she was become utterly one with him. She gasped then, as if just remembering to breathe, and a man behind her caught her as she stumbled back a step, into the present.

Only, the thing that was different, was the drums now sounded familiar and the Mesa felt like a home she had been too long away from. She was dazed by the experience. Jillian watched the dance of fertility unfold and felt lonely for the man she had seen, for the life she felt with him in the brief flash. It was hard to leave the Mesa. She felt she was happy here once. This was not the first flash she'd had, but it was the first of its kind- it was a waking dream.

For a long time afterward she felt lonely, sad. Contemplation of the experience eventually made her remember a night from her childhood in which something had happened but that she could not recall. It had made her feel confused and it seemed someone should have noticed the day was not normal; that she was not normal that day. She felt as if she had been gone but suddenly returned to a place in which she was… out of place.

How could she be at home and yet not feel a part of it. She felt a sense of knowing beyond her years, but could not access it. And no one was familiar. Why didn't anyone seem familiar? She wondered if she was not unfamiliar to her…family. She waited for someone to ask who she was or maybe even where she had been, but no one did. The experience was a mystery to her, then and now.

Finally, she remembered a dream when she was sixteen; a dream of a remarkable face. It had been bearded then, but it was a face that in a moment when she met death, gave her compassion and comfort. It had become a face she loved. The eyes were a different color from the face she had seen on the man at the Mesa. Those had been black and then a deeper blue, somehow…maybe it was the lighting…because…yes, they were the same eyes! She began then to look for that face in every man she encountered.

A few months later, Jillian lost the job of her dreams. Something about government cutbacks and no funding so most recent employees were culled. She returned to school to work on a Master's degree. With the money she'd saved, she could manage, if she could get part time work. She was going to try to go into education. She came to feel she needed to experience the world she studied in books if she was ever to understand it well enough to teach about it all, even if the expense kept her from completing the course work right away. That summer, she went to Europe and North Africa…Egypt.

She'd experienced almost every form of travel known to man, balloon, submarine, jet, hoover craft, elephant, horse, burro, train, auto, motorcycle, ship and so on. Today, she was riding a camel. She couldn't get the theme music from 'Lawrence of Arabia' out of her head. She hummed it as the caravan proceeded. Then the rhythm of the camel's sway reminded her of 'Bolero' and she hummed that instead. Even in the sun of the early morning, the heat was intense. Its dryness was all that made it bearable. The camel's odor was heavy around her and wafted densely on the hot breeze.

The swaying of her camel transport started making her a bit seasick. It made her think their being transport over oceans of sand were not the only reason they were called 'ships of the desert' as their movement had the same circular, rising and falling motion of a ship upon the sea…hence her nauseous state. She fanned herself to attain some relief.

Suddenly she was distracted from it all. In the distance were the fabled pyramids. Their iconic silhouette fascinated her and now captivated. She felt drawn to them. She wished she could float across the desert to them but she was not going there today. Today, she was going to see a friend. The pyramids slipped from sight behind a dune they rounded to head out west…away from any roads to skirt the desert.

Dr. Donna Davis was a professor of archeology Jillian had befriended while studying the subject. It was so exciting to get to see her engaged in her actual work. There was a small oasis fed by an ancient spring where the dig's tent residences were arranged. After a brief, jubilant greeting, Donna took Jillian to get settled in the tent she would occupy during her stay and suggested a rest during the hottest part of the day. Donna told Jillian she'd be back later to take her on a dig tour.

Jillian was too thrilled to be at an actual oasis camp… on an archeological dig… in Egypt, to rest, so she went for a stroll among the date palms and scraggly grass patches. The spring here was a rare one that bubbled up to the surface through a path around the rock, pushed up by pressures deeper in the earth to create a small surface pool. Papyrus reeds grew along its edge except where people and wildlife kept it cleared for access to the rare and vital surface water.

The spring was the only natural standing fresh water west of the Nile for many miles. It was a coveted spot and had required quite some finesse on Dr. Davis' part to get permission to excavate the ancient site that had been found around the water. Jillian was certain Donna had mentioned the spring was brought into being by a tap from the staff of Osiris when that was the god of water and vegetation. Whispering a thank you to Osiris, Jillian dipped her handkerchief in the coolness and shared it with her forehead. She sank to be seated with a date palm back support to stare at the open desert that stretched for hundreds of miles just feet away.

The heat rising up from the baked sand made a transparent wavering of the air. It looked like the air had become as water. She knew the correct name and the science of it but all she did now was imagine that a mirage might emerge readily from such a distortion. Jillian took a deep breath of the hot and dry. She smelled the sweetness of the dates, the herbal sent of the grasses, the mineral scent of the water. She leaned her head back and watched the sun rays dance in the fronds of the trees. She watched as dried leaves from the fronds floated on the water to hide in the shaded edges then closed her eyes to savor the messages of this place her other senses offered.

She heard a rattling, rumbling. Her nostrils burned and her lungs hurt. She grabbed for her chest and started coughing. Her skin was burning. She opened her eyes to mayhem. Smoke billowed around her, flames leapt. Chariots clamored out from the rising heat to skid to a stop. Out of the manmade sandstorm men and women of high birth emerged to quench their thirst at the spring. They were returning from the wilds to this camp.

Fires for cooking were near. These had been on a hunt for lions, cheetah, but also brought fresh meat for the fires. They used trained big cats to hunt for food and for their own kind as sport. Those hunters were returned to cages. Any way they could, these people loved to pit their skills against the great cats, she thought. She also thought these did as they pleased because they saw themselves as gods or equal to gods. It was offensive to the neighboring tribes that they believed they were gods, these Egyptian enslavers. It was offensive to her, she felt.

Jillian cowered behind a shrub. She looked at her own hand. It was more youthful than she recalled herself. She looked at her clothing . From her knowledge of history, she recognized the robes as those of Jewish origin. She would not be welcomed here.

Some high ranking man barked an order after which slaves set up tents and places to lounge and tables for fruit and drink and tended a pit that was roasting meat . It all appeared so quickly it was almost as if they rose from the sands by magic. Water was gathered from the spring after all had drunk for the necessary quench. Animals were quenched apart from the spring so as not to disturb its clarity.

Jillian began to stand and turn. There was a path behind her she sought to hurry toward. There was a tent she needed to reach. Instead of finding the path, she ran into the tall man who'd stepped behind her. His leather armored chest was not a place of fear for her. She looked up into adoring eyes and smiling face and leapt with joy into his waiting arms. He did not wait for her greeting but kissed her intensely with an overwhelming passion. She was unaware of the arrival, but now they were in the tent she had sought…with her love. They fell together in their tent nestled into a small concealed spot there on the oasis and surrendered to their desire's urgency.

His mouth was on her breasts , nipping with his teeth and circling with his tongue. He traced the nape of her neck, nibbling her ear, kissing her lips and he explored her mouth with his tongue. His hands traced her back and cupped her buttocks, drawing her to him as he entered her. He could not be more part of her, nor she of him. They were lost in one another. Their lovemaking did not permit them to hear the gang of soldiers who had crept upon them.

The beautiful young soldier whose golden threaded, blue eyes were a rare thing in these lands shielded her body with his own. She felt the power of the blows to his body. She felt his life cease from the swords that lashed the punishing disdain of the men for the young soldier's choice of wife. He had been warned, they shouted in a language she understood but that was not her own.

As the angry swords found their way past her dead love to take her life, Jillian lost the ancient memory…or hallucination or whatever this was. She woke to awareness still resting against the date palm. She remembered his touch. She remembered his face. It was the same face she'd 'seen' in dreams and on the Mesa. She remembered the love and promise of him and she wept for her loss …for the loss of a man she didn't know, but loved beyond life and time. What was happening to her?

She had to leave the oasis. She borrowed a jeep and drove, she knew not where…she didn't care. It just had to be away…moving away from her heart's pain. Hoping she was somehow moving ever closer to…his face….his arms. When she could realize her surroundings, she was sitting in a place on the edge of the Nile. Here she could see the great river carving its way through the ancient land. It meandered as it had for eons, seeking its purpose.

She thought about the experience she had back at the oasis and at the Mesa. She was at home with the man she saw in her dreams of those places. She loved those places in which she found herself…so ancient and storied. She was sitting beneath ancient trees here. As she thought about him, she could see him again, in her mind's eye, feel him in her heart.

She remembered the dream of a special man, who comforted someone…was it her… in an arena, centuries ago on another dying day. She watched as leaves parted from the knarled, ancient trees and floated to…who knew where carried by the rivers winding. She could not stop the song that rose to voice. She sang a song of mysteries she could not grasp, a song of longing for one she did not know. She sang as it poured from her, haunting… reaching from the depths of her soul, flowing like the legendary river below her flowed through time:

Is it me, can I see,

Beneath ancient trees swaying in time

Scattered leaves, the currents carry

Was it then or is it now, I can't see.

Empty, churning me

My soul is blind; a river in time.

I saw you young, centuries ago, in a dream… now

You took my fear away on a dying day

From a violent eternal, ever rushing to your side

Angel or demon, now I'm bound to your cause

You left me stowaway, a stone to this world.

Left me blind, a rushing river in time….

Struggling breath; familiar air caress, winged eagle dusts cathedraled skies,

Light transforms, your eyes fire infinity, you touch, but away; rushing, no rest, never stay

I tracing blind, carve crescents, faded false….searching, new journeys… remembered

Torrents rise through soaring places, dreams swirl, I'm out of step with the world

Something vital lies out of reach

Blind and ever rushing, a river in time, my soul.

I see me, never and ever alone beneath ancient trees

Swaying in time, scattered leaves carried away

Riding waves of yesterday

'Til blind tomorrows bring

This river winding quiet,

Flowing soft into your arms, my soul to yours; rivers in time.

She wept as the sun set on the ancient land where, wrested in confusion and a deeper sense of loneliness than she had ever known, her ancient soul struggled to remember his name…She could not.

Jillian stumbled through the rest of the trip. Every place she traveled, she waited for a memory…she was certain now that it was memory…a memory of life with this man. When she reached Rome, she found she could not enter the Coliseum, such a fear gripped her. She could taste the sand and smell the perfumes of another time, of another loss of…him.

She stood trembling, in her deep purple slacks and emerald blouse. The colors felt right to her that morning. She determined to move through the emotion that plagued her and, when she recalled the way he took away her fear that long ago day, she touched the deep purple cloth she wore, recalling the moment she had worn the shade that long ago day here. Her courage retook its seat in her and she walked through the arches to be once again where she had stood in his presence and remembered his touch.

Jillian returned to America a week later unable to shake the sense of him…her nameless love. Her life thereafter was spent trying to get a foothold in this time and this life without him. She had travelled the world and he was a memory everywhere but was nowhere to be found. She determined to manage however she could.

She was skilled, gifted and had so much potential but it was never fully realized. It was as if something deliberately took her opportunity to thrive, but she did not lose hope. She simply used each phase as one of discovery, as a chance to learn, whether or not it gleaned success the kind of which the world acknowledged or rewarded. She felt rich of spirit. She felt the promise of more to come. She found the richness of what her memories gave her of her unknown and ever recalled love sustained her, even in his absence.

She eventually found a great enough love in this life and married in hopes of some fulfillment. She wanted children and time was growing short for that. Jillian was lovely, passionate, brilliant and though not very experienced, she was stunningly skilled at lovemaking. She seemed to innately know how to drive her lover mad with techniques of wide and delightful variety. Her husband was a lucky man. He resembled the face of her dreams and his form, being athletically slender, matched him, as well. He had crystal blue eyes and dark hair. He moved with grace born of his physical strength. His beautiful hands were nearly an art form of themselves. She hoped it was him, the man of her dreams.

He, her husband, was himself, vastly experienced with women in his life. He had been pursued constantly and had never been alone. Still, Jillian captivated him. He left a relationship for her. Her passionate nature kept him true to their love. He once told her, he went somewhere else during their mutual orgasm, such was his mind affected by the pleasure of it. He had said, he didn't know where he was, but she was there. This reinforced Jillian's thought that this was the man whose face had haunted her through time.

Though her husband was the one gifted with building skills, somehow it seemed natural that she should manage the design and choose the artisans for building what would be their home together. Jillian invested herself completely to their life. She loved her husband truly and as best as she could and still it was not enough. In time she realized she had been mistaken. This wasn't the man she'd always seen in her mind's eye and without wanting to, she blamed him for not being that man. She neglected him. He sought comfort elsewhere. The marriage ended.

Childless, unemployed and alone again, she built herself a refuge in nature and a life raising and showing horses. She pursued her childhood interest in veterinary science. The business of ranching failed almost before it began, but she made good friends in all walks of life in the business.

A downturn in economy made horse ownership impossible for the folks who were making it a boom industry when she began. Droughts made the price of hay quadruple. But she couldn't let go. She kept as many horses as she could and hired someone to help with them. When her help was able to manage the ranch alone, she felt compelled to travel to Europe again. She had begun writing, hoping to earn money that way. She had an active imagination and a nice flare for story. She submitted a book to publishers but her need to travel could not wait for results. Without money, she would have to work her way through her travels… and write.

When Jillian landed in London, her cabbie found she was without funds to pay her fee just as they passed a great theatre. He evicted her in front of the Palladium . Jillian walked into the Palladium and asked for a job…anything. The theatre manager needed a janitor. Two of their staff had to retire early due to illness and they were in dire and unexpected need. She took the work.

Jillian was seldom around the performers at first but eventually, she learned who they were and heard the gossip and saw the news about them. She also heard members of the cast talking. The leading man in the featured play at the theatre had been in TV and cinema and theatre since High School and had fame and a comfortably extravagant life . She was always too unsettled around him to actually make a meeting. His appearance unnerved her. He resembled her husband but there was more to it than that. She couldn't put her finger on it, so she just avoided him.

Michael Decker was famous and ridiculously pretty. He'd never married but there was always a significant other to replace the last one…and he was not faithful to any of them. It wasn't a flaw in his nature, exactly. He did enjoy the pleasures of women. He did seek their company. But there was always something tugging at him. There was something about every woman that seemed missing. He was always searching for something…someone.

Women and men pursued him constantly. He flirted with the men to make them happy. He did not wish to be inconsiderate of their attraction to him, but he was soundly heterosexual and made no secret of it. He was living with a beautiful and formidable women now, Helen Bennet. He'd been with her for three years. They'd met on set…somewhere he'd forgotten exactly. Helen fended off the seekers of him like a she-bear…making it clear to one and all that they could look, but he was hers, so it was hands off. That was nothing more than a challenge to most of the women in their circles. They knew his tendency to wander and took full advantage.

Michael enjoyed Helen's fierce territorialism but he was, indeed, not faithful to her. The elusive someone was still out there and he fielded anyone's advances that held possibility of being her. Sometimes he just liked the excitement of being with someone he didn't know and knew there would never be anything more than that moment of lust. That was easy and sometimes easy was good if the lady was clear on the matter. A few bottles of his favorite whisky to numb his body, drugs to make him open to, well, anything, were routine.

He found himself often in places he shouldn't be. That made him feel some twinge of shame which he dulled with more whisky or wine or drugs or women or all of it at once. Most often, the one encounter only incidents were with women, sometimes several at once, who just wanted a brush with a pretty and famous person. They were all content with the loveless sex, as he had great stamina, was physically gifted and masterful in many techniques. His gentle but commanding charisma didn't hurt either. But many times, the women he lay with didn't even care if he was conscious… nor did he.

One day after the play had opened, he became ill during a matinee performance and didn't want anyone to know. On the way to his dressing room at intermission, after which there would be a major costume and set change, he became nauseated. He wasn't going to make it to his dressing room. He slipped into the one little area where there were no people, he thought. Jillian was there . She stayed there, out of sight to watch the proceedings as she kept busy keeping things neat and sweeping backstage. She saw him throw up in a garbage can she'd just emptied. She thought to just walk away, but he was there alone and in obvious distress.

Jillian reached to help him up afterward and said she'd get someone to assist him. " No," he said, waving her away. "I don't want them to know. I must have had too much to drink last night. That doesn't go over well with directors." Then he was sick again. "Let's get you to your dressing room," Jillian said. She ran interference for him.

Once there, he set about making his change of costume while she moistened a couple of wash cloths in cool water. She hurried out of the washroom to put a cloth on the back of his neck. He was naked. She had not been in the presence of a naked man in a very long time. This was a good return to the sight she thought. He was stunning…and utterly immodest. She did not let on to her long post-divorce inexperience with the matter.

She placed the soothing cloth on his neck as he bent to pull up his costume bottoms. He went to fasten them only to find the zipper broken. "Damn!" The open costume trousers only barely covered him. "I have to hurry! Make-up will be in shortly…Ohh…" He moaned as he turned a shade of green becoming nauseated again.

Jillian held up his wastebasket as he threw up into it. She wiped his face with the wash cloth. "Ahh. Oh, man. I'm a wreck, huh?" He said rubbing the back of his hand across his brow. She wondered at how anyone could be so completely compelling even vomiting, but she didn't let on to that fact. No one had generated that thought…being compelling… since her former husband and even he did not draw her into him the way this man did.

"Yes, a bit" She finally responded.. " Let's see what I have to help." She had some anti-nausea meds in her fanny pack and offered them. He took several more than the dosage on the label. He was trembling from the chills that now onset. He was perspiring. She gave him aspirin for his fever. "This isn't a hangover. You should let your understudy finish the performance. This will all make the singing a bit difficult for you, yes? "

"Yes. I suppose I should yield the stage, but I won't. I don't do this because I have to. I love performing. I don't want to miss any of it." He looked squarely at her and announced, "They'll have to drag me from the stage." She smiled an admiring smile. However wild and wooly he might be, he was committed to his craft and it showed in his skill. There was a knock at the door. "Make-up, Michael." The ill man and Jillian exchanged a look of thanks from him and understanding from her. "I'll empty that basket for you, if you'll be OK for now."

He swallowed hard, "I'll have to be." She nodded and took the sick evidence out of the way of the scurrying artists who now entered the room. He popped a breath mint into his mouth and reached for the honey and lemon simmering on the hot plate, at the same time indicating his open pants front and said, "Need the seamstress." One of the crowd hurried to get the woman who was master seamstress . The taste of the breath mint did not blend with the honey, he made a face and set the cup of 'throat conditioner' down.

Jillian lingered to watch as the make- up and hair people started to ready him for the next scene. Usually he managed, but the next scene required some extra techniques. The hair dresser arranged his dark brown hair into an appealing dishevelment to suit the action of the story. The seamstress hurried in getting him to stand now so she could sew him into the tight pants. His next scene was shirtless and they dabbed and sprayed the body make-up and glued prosthetic cuts and painted the required fake blood on his chest and sprayed the abdominal accents to enhance his muscular perfection.

His prop was a weapon, a sword. The prop master took the one he'd worn from the scabbard and replaced it with his stunt fighting sword. He would be fighting. He was a master at it - both the dance and the martial art of it. The blend of skills made the performance believably lethal and graceful. The audience was always impressed with this half of the play and its action.

One make-up artist stood on a step stool to reach his height. She removed his existing face make- up and sprayed new high tech makeup on his face and applied the lip pigment and facial highlights to accentuate his unique and exotically beautiful bone structure. She brushed on the eye make-up. The blood and special effects artist took her place on the step stool and dabbed some at the corner of his mouth and the height of his cheek and glued a cut prosthetic to his forehead. They quickly painted its surrounding bruise and they added more of the fake blood. He began to look as beaten up as his unsettledness made him feel.

A dialogue coach came in to remind him of a few complex pronunciations for the foreign language lines he had. Still in earshot of the room's proceedings, Jillian heard the seamstress ask him to adjust himself so that she didn't add a seam to unseemly parts of his 'wardrobe'. He giggled at her insinuation. She found she quite liked his laugh. She smiled at his enjoyment and felt certain he'd be fine as she moved out of ear shot with her concealment project.

When the play was over, she was finishing the stage sweep up when she heard foot fall approaching. It was him. She stopped her work to smile at him. "Nice job," she said. "Thanks. Um, the meds you gave me were a godsend. I really appreciate what you did."

"The show must go on," Jillian said feeling silly at the trite remark. "Ha! Yeah. Well, thanks. I'm gonna go and crash now. We have the 8pm show tonight. Do you have any extra of the anti- nausea things. They really did a good job."

"I think I have a couple." She rooted in the fanny pack and handed him the blister card with two remaining tablets. "Great, thank you , again. Um, my name is Michael." He introduced himself to prompt her to say her name. "I'm Jillian," she offered. He stuck his hand out, "Nice to meet you, Jilli…"he hesitated then finished her name, "…an." He froze for a second as if something had pricked at his memory.

She reached to put her hand in his and a spark akin to a bolt flashed between them. "Oh, my word!" she exclaimed withdrawing from the shock. "Ah! I'm so sorry," he said laughing and shaking his hand to free it of the shock it experienced. "I think that's all of the excitement I can handle for now," he said flashing his charming crooked smile. He really was beautiful, she thought. "Have a good rest," she offered as he turned to depart. He stopped and refaced her, "Thanks, Cheers," he said in a way that made her think he wanted to say more, but didn't know why he felt compelled to do so.

He went to turn away and didn't. He looked at her side-eyed with a puzzled and expectant confusion, smiled nodded that yes he did mean bye and turned. She watched him walk away. He had such grace; a grace born of strength. She heard the back stage door shut as he departed the theatre. It was something about the way he glanced at her…something about his profile… the way he said his name….a chill ran down her.

Jillian began shaking …she crumbled to the stage floor in realization. This was him…his face….his voice. What now? She could barely breathe. She had the sense he wasn't really gone. She had the sense he would never really be gone. She managed to recover enough to finish sweeping up. She went for dinner alone, her head spinning from confusion and dread. She would leave in the morning. She couldn't face this . She couldn't face him again.

She had gone to a restaurant some of the other actors had hailed as great called 'Shanks' . They made a broth that was so rich and flavorful that just it and noodles were a high feast worthy of a celebration. She ordered some dumplings and a bowl of the fabulous noodles. She got some hot green tea but decided she needed an alcoholic beverage. She asked for a Triple Wood Laphroaig, neat. The waiter smiled his approval and went to fill the order. She was surprised they had it. No one in America stocked it. She'd acquired a taste for it years ago and planned to go to the distillery in Scotland for a tour in the future.

The waiter served her drink and meal. She immediately took several sips of the Laphroaig while the waiter stayed tableside and pointed out a famous person who was dining. Usually people gave them larger tips if they pointed out famous folks in proximity . She turned to see to whom the waiter referred. " He's in a play right now. You can see him at the Palladium … "

She did not hear the details as she recognized it was Michael. He was there alone having a bowl of broth without noodles. He still looked a few shades shy of healthy…especially out of makeup. "You want an autograph? "The waiter asked. "No, don't disturb him, but thank you for pointing him out, I'm a fan of his."

"You his fan!? I'll tell him!"

"Don't …" she began her objection. It was pointless the young opportunist was already en route. She sat hoping he would just ignore the eager waiter. But when he recognized her profile, he walked over. She had not expected that at all and was a bit startled by his standing tableside. At 6'3" he was hard to miss. "Hello, again." He said smiling his beautiful smile. His eyes sparkled when he smiled, so much so it lit up his face as if the sun had fired there.

She braced for the encounter taking a deep breath before rising and facing him. "Hi, Michael." She was impressed and surprised at how casually she managed to make that sound. She was also surprised that he leaned in for a kiss. She turned her head to begin the double cheek air kiss that was popular now.

He gently held her face to him with two fingers and his thumb and kissed her on the lips. It was not passionate but it was not a friendly peck. It was just right for a public greeting of affection between lovers. She wanted to be angry at his presumption but he was so genuinely warm in his intent, she could not. "Mm, Laphroaig…a favorite of mine," Michael said as he'd noticed the distinctive smoky essence of it on her breath. She hoped her breath was otherwise unnoticeable.

"Please, sit down, Michael, I know you must still feel fairly crappy." Oh, crappy…geez…could she not have thought of something more adroit? She was confused and trying to find a way to manage the man in front of her and the one she felt he was. She decided to leave the one she thought he was. That was too strange, too complicated and this man was a force to be reckoned with without the extra baggage.

"Crappy is an understatement but in the right vein." He assured her as he sat next to her, not across from her.

'Breathe, Jillian.' She reminded herself internally. Michael's regular waiter, as , unbeknownst to Jillian, he frequented the establishment, brought his broth and ….did he have a marguerita? He must have a lead- lined stomach to tolerate that now, she thought. He noticed her disapproval of his choice of beverage and said, "I need the salt." He made it a question raising his tone of voice at the end and he raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips inward as one who'd just blatantly lied to someone who surely would know it…yet wondering whether or not they would buy it.

"Right. Well, interesting choice of electrolyte delivery." Jillian teased.

He smiled. He liked that she politely challenged his story. "You're probably right. Honestly, I just need a little something to still my nerves. I know it's unreasonable, but I still get a bit of stress before a live performance." Michael admitted.

"Probably what makes you so spellbinding, that little edginess." Jillian told him in a slip of her personal admiration of him. He hadn't missed that fact.

"You… think I'm spellbinding?" He studied her with his eyes slightly squinted in a sweet sort of anticipation of her response and genuine surprised happiness at the revelation that she was moved by him.

She felt trapped by her own admission but she answered honestly and deftly, in a way that gave her escape from his sudden intense scrutiny of her comment, "You could hear a gnat breathe the audience is so rapt with your every line."

He laughed despite and because of being foiled. He had wanted a more personal review but admired that she had circumvented it. He was a bit unsettled by the idea she may now know of his interest but didn't share it. There was an uncomfortable quiet between them. He didn't want that. He wasn't quite certain what he wanted. That alone was rare. But he didn't want them to feel uncomfortable and maybe he'd overestimated the moment anyway. She may only have seen it as a quest for a stroke to vanity on his part. Michael smiled at her warmly through his own confusion and lifted the tension. He sipped the hot broth from the bowl leaving his spoon unused. It seemed to brighten him as its nourishment settled.

Then he spoke to break the silence and to learn more about this woman who seemed out of context to him, "You don't seem like a typical housekeeping staff. Why are you…." He hesitated then said, "I have no right to ask, sorry…" The uncomfortable was back. She smiled at him and could see it lifted his tension. She couldn't imagine she had any effect on him at all, but here was evidence to the contrary. "I'm traveling, working at things here and there to support that… and writing."

"You're a writer!" He exclaimed leaning back in his chair to study her. "That suits you better. I can see that about you." He said nodding affirmation of his assessment. "Are you published?"

"A little. Not professionally…not since university."

"So…it's a new pursuit?"

"Relatively new. I… have a book in circulation to be considered for publication but no news yet."

"It's brave of you to try something so challenging. I've often thought of writing a script. Ideas pop into my head, but I don't have the conviction to complete the work. I played the part of a writer once. I met with writers for research: poets, a novelist. Too solitary an existence for me, I'm afraid."

"Oh? I've not felt very solitary since I started writing. I like expanding my own experiences to feed my characters and I like the company of my characters. If I get them right it's as if they're actual people while I'm writing them. They reveal themselves and their secrets in layers in the way you come to know a new friend….who in unexpected ways is so much like you regardless of the greatest differences."

"That's a good point. I like that, yeah…yeah. In a similar way, performing a character makes connections with you that gradually help bring them to a more complex believable or understandable play of life. I find they accompany me as well… all the while I play the part, like a duel personality." He shook his head. "That sounds a little more psychotic than I intended," he laughed at himself.

Jillian laughed, admiring his infectious, musical laughter, and added, "It is a little that, yes. You are a blending. … Is that what actors call 'method'? "

"Ah, well, yes. "He said, surprised she knew the term. " Evidently, character creation is a symbiosis whether it's on the page or on the stage." Jillian liked talking to him. She liked the way he thought. It felt familiar even though they were not…not them, not the worlds they were part of here. She was so drawn to him but wanted to run from him all the same. This was too difficult. She was relieved when Michael's regular waiter came up and signaled him about the time. "I have to get back to the theatre." He said to Jillian.

"Have a better evening than your matinee or do I say 'break a leg'. Do performers say that anymore? " She felt silly, like a child trying to talk shop with a master. He flashed his engaging smile and said, " A wish for good luck always works for me, however it's expressed. Thank you." He leaned to her and kissed her on the lips again. He held the kiss a bit longer and she thought she heard him gasp lightly as he parted from her. Or was that her?

He looked at her again as if wanting to say something or ask something ….there was a confused longing in his eyes, then he smiled at her stood and looking intently at her to hold her gaze he said , "Good night, Jillian," and left. Jillian sat, her head swimming. Had he meant for those three words to carry such weight? Surely she imagined his interest. He was just compelling by his nature. God…she just had to get out of here. She couldn't breathe. Jillian asked the waiter for her bill. The waiter said excitedly, "All taken care of . You come back. Always welcome."

"Thank you, good night." She hurried out of the restaurant shaking from the experience. This was the man she'd always loved in her 'experiences'. Did he sense it? Was that why he was so engaging or was he just exercising his obvious people skills and raw charisma? She stood on the sidewalk frozen for a moment before she attempted to hail a cab. A lovely willowy woman with a stern set to her expression walked up to her. "How do you know him?" She snapped accusingly.

"What?" Jillian was taken aback.

"How. Do. You. Know. Michael?" She emphasized, using her height to be intimidating.

"I work at the theatre. You must be Helen." Jillian said more calmly than she felt. May she should become an actor. Evidently she was good at hiding feelings of panic.

"You know about me, then? You know he's mine. Keep your feeble lips off."

"I did not initiate the kiss, Helen. You needn't worry for my part, I'm probably old enough to be his mom anyway. "

"Oh, I'm sorry, that didn't look like a 'mom farewell' to me." Helen seemed to want a conflict but Jillian recognized the fear and her knowing expression and calmness caused Helen to see her self. She quieted. "God, I'm so embarrassed. I just. You just don't know." Her hurt was all too evident.

Jillian said with great compassion, "Know what? How you love him? Yes, I can know that. Once, I was married to a man I loved deeply. I know you want him to yourself, to have him devoted to you." Helen raised a perfect eyebrow. Jillian continued " Yes, I can know that from experience. " Jillian's husband had had affairs. It had hurt her deeply. She did know how Helen felt. She knew more about how to cope with that than she wanted to.

She also knew more about Michael in this life somehow. "You know you can't change whatever it is that makes him the way he is…that makes him want what he wants…no matter how much you love him or confront his… contacts. They are not why. He is why. Something he seeks. Helen, do what it takes to bring yourself to a place you can claim your own stability, with or without him."

"I do feel like a crazy woman, "said the distraught beautiful woman as she began to cry. Jillian admitted, "I can know how that feels also. It will make you crazy to want something or someone so desperately. To want them so much you forget what is important ..surrender your own sanity. " She spoke the words with the assuredness of one who'd been in this predicament… as a memory of her own experiences and more .

She paused as she tried to stop the memory that was trying to surface. Then she advised, "Take your power back, Helen. It will only hurt you both if you can't." She turned to begin to hail a cab again. The beautiful woman stood stilled by the brief but profound conversation.

"Thank you, " Helen said. No one has seen past the crazy before. I suppose… if he wanted you…he could do worse." Jillian watched the talented actress that was Michael's girlfriend turn and walk away. She did not envy her, she did not pity her. She did hope Helen could find her footing in the shifting sands of the life she had with the captivating man. She could imagine the pitfalls … and the draw.

She wished she wasn't also happy to know there was a window of hope for…'for what, Jillian? What was there? STD's? Heartache and disaster to shake the foundations of life? Public humiliation? Honestly!' She chastised herself to herself. This was all absurd. She was a good deal older than him. Even if it was "him" and while she thought he must be, she also thought she must be insane, or just dazed, certainly.

She had been kissed twice by an impossibly beautiful man. No lips had touched hers since her divorce too many years ago, before tonight. She had seen him naked. She had stroked his fevered brow. She had dined with him. She'd been accused of being his love interest. She had comforted his tormented lover. That was enough and justifiable cause for why such ridiculous ideas raised their heads. But the absurdity would stop now.

Maybe his was the face...the man of her dreams, but she'd been mistaken before…maybe she was again and so a dream he'd stay. She would leave in the morning…go to Glasgow. Instead of going straight to her suite at the residential hotel to pack, she asked the cabbie to drop her at the pub around the corner. She needed a large, strong beverage. She walked in to sit at the bar and ordered a drink…"your most numbing brew, Nigel," she asked of the bartender whose name she knew from previous visits.

As the night proceeded, she knew she'd never be able to resist him. She would indeed have to leave. Maybe Glasgow wasn't far enough. Melbourne, Australia might work. She knew he was the one she remembered and she wanted him with every fiber of her being. What should she do? The night dragged on and time passed. It was quite late. She thought she must be quite drunk because she saw Michael walking toward her. He sat next to her and ordered a drink . OK…the bartender brought a drink. It must not be a hallucination. He spoke without looking at her, just staring straight ahead, " I find I'm fascinated by you." He sipped his drink.

"How did you find me?" She asked, steeling herself to his pull on her heart, her mind…her body.

"I asked the theater manager for an address. When you weren't home, I came here to wait a bit before checking again. I hope I haven't missed…" Jillian interrupted him.

"Michael, you are a world apart from me in more ways than I can count, I don't think you mean to be, for want of a better term for the whole of the situation, slumming."

"What?!" That's ridiculous. If you had any idea of the …"

She interrupted him again, "I wouldn't finish that if I were you." She was thinking he would say 'if you had any idea of the dives I've been in and the impossible number of questionable individuals I've been with, you wouldn't be surprised.'

Michael laughed realizing what she could possibly think he was about to say, but insisted, "I will finish. If you had any idea of the way you've affected me, you wouldn't question why I'm here. "

"But I do question it. I'm not what you are accustomed to, nor you I. I have to think of…well you don't know me. You barely know my name. If everything I hear or observe is correct, you would have sex with any lovely who said "Let's". More memories surfaced of what he was to her in the past but she tried to explain her doubts in relation to his current reality.

"For me, the way I love… The man who becomes my lover, he…would be a treasure like no other." Without realizing, she had changed the focus to him. " I would give you what you would not even pause to notice was rare. Loving you, it would be sacred, transcendent, a devotion. Not at all saying that I am special but what is shared would be. You , not understanding would make the extraordinary, ordinary by a lack of spiritual presence. I can't just have sex with you and be out with tomorrows refuse. I'm just not wired that way. So…. have your 'bottled water' relationships elsewhere.

"Are you saying I'm cheap and common" Michael said in a charming and unoffended way acknowledging his free lifestyle appeared to be that and with a hint of his regret that he had in fact lived that life .

"No. _**You**_ are not. I'm saying it seems you treat love that way….love and love-making. You take it like its tap water. I don't think it is when you 'get' it. When its right between two people, it's the raison d'etre. I've had a hint of the real thing and nothing else measures up. I wish that for you….the transcendent kind of love. It just doesn't seem to fit your program. She studied his intense expression. " I see it might interest you, the possibilities of it, but would you …honor it?"

"You feel I'm hopelessly promiscuous. You don't think I'm capable of devotion, then? Or is it that you just aren't interested in… me?"

Jillian's intoxication made her a bit more effusive than she might have been, but this was the truth, "Michael, you are a god among men. You are famous enough to be part of a fascinating world and so fascinate. You are beautiful. Your eyes carry all thoughts away toward you, your voice captivates, your words invite delight, your lips fire the heart. You are living, walking passion. No one could NOT be interested; no one could deny you."

"It's true that many have not. You have." His brow furrowed with his inquisitive and introspective confusion. He bit his bottom lip while he thought if he should proceed, "I've always felt a bit, um, as though I'm missing something important. As though I'm here without a life raft, you know. Always, just missing that one significant something…someone… that grounds you…keeps you from falling aimlessly through time and…" He struggled with his thoughts and to find the words but failed. He took a deep breath and asked Jillian, "Why is it that the one I feel most for does deny me?"

Her resolve was being chipped away. She couldn't bear the hurt, lost sense she felt of him. She sighed a deep sigh, and said under her breath "I was strong… once." He heard her.

"Then, there is hope?"

She smiled at him saying, "Only for you." Her welling tears let overflow a single one. It fell down her blushed, delicate cheek. She held the rest at bay. Jillian was the kind of beauty that defied age. She wasn't the kind that stopped the presses, but the whole of her, her inner light, her power of grace, her depth of being made her stunning to anyone who really looked. The bartender had noticed.

He liked Jillian and became protective of her now. He knew who Michael Decker was. He didn't want him taking advantage just because he could. "Jillian, he asked, "is everything OK?" "Yes, Nigel, don't worry." Nigel went to the far end of the bar to give them their privacy again, but he glared at Michael as a warning to behave. Michael was well acquainted with other men being wary of him and his motives. He was a little ashamed that it was not without cause. But in this case, he was the one who was risking his heart.

Jillian could see that possibility in his eyes, but still she doubted. Her breath came quickly from her spilling emotions. For years no lips had met hers save his...his presumptuous insinuation on her mouth still haunted. Her love's betrayal so long ago had steeled her to all and everyone, save this … Michael. Only he could breech her walls this way, but still she held back even as she continued remembering who and what he was to her in so many lives. Her vulnerability, this public place- it was too raw. She stood to leave. She was simply overwhelmed. She wanted to run away from the emotional tornado at her core. He stood to block her.

"Why do you resist this between us, so? How can it hurt to explore it? He said softly, quietly as he stepped toward her wishing to reach for her….to bring her into his arms. She stepped back from his advance. He stopped , plainly wearing on his face the hurt of her wish to avoid his touch. He motioned for her to move to the more private alcove at the back of the bar. It was just a small jut of a wall really, but they could talk without other eyes worrying over them. Standing facing one another, Jillian continued.

"There is more at odds with us than you may realize."

"Like what, for instance?" He was glad she reengaged the subject of their possibility.

"I 'm old enough to be your…. " He interrupted her this time.

"Then you should know that doesn't matter. There's more to it than that, isn't there? Helen has said you loved once. Does some part of you not wish that in your life again? I can't stop thinking of you. You are in my waking dreams and with me in the dreams of my sleep. You have been for some time…even before we met . Somehow, you even haunt my memory. Can you tell me I'm not part of yours?"

"You have been part of me for a very long time, I think." Jillian admitted.

"Then why should we not embrace our deep attraction? Let us be together, Jillian." It was hard to stand in the face of his personal power. He was asking in the most open way. A way, that, mismanaged, could be seen as pleading but he didn't mishandle it. He still held such a personal dignity. There was something so unshatterably glorious to his bearing, She felt it was not something he accessed consciously, but it was part of what made him magnetic. He really was someone set apart from other people, separate from ordinary. He would be that where ever he was.

Jillian sighed. He had unlocked something inside her that could not be contained now. She could not stop herself telling him this deep sense of things she felt …things she didn't even know she felt within herself. This poured from her as water over a dam that had at last broken free to gouge out the heart of the sweet land it rushed, "Hearts betray. Love does not last…it lies, it cheats, it torments. It rapes the world taking the object of its force and leaves it shattered, broken, bleeding and raw and…alone …to pick up the pieces of such monumental things as hope and dreams. If there is no truth, no honesty , no surety in love then… why? Why venture into the bramble when a more serene path skirts the thorny way? You ARE the stuff of my dreams…and my nightmares. Leave me….leave me in peace…" She could not stop her tears.

He stood shocked by the force of her words. What she said was breathtaking. He wanted more than anything to hold her but he offered only the depth of his understanding, "I'm so sorry. You did give everything once. How he must have hurt you…" Michael felt his own tears well up for her hurt.

"Yes, he did in every way. Though, it was not his betrayal that condemned me to years of solitude, but my own. Maybe it was just a wrong choice, I don't know…but I abandoned all I cared for, worked for, dreamed of, believed in… it was so destructive , so corrosive to my being that one day I…broke. You see, it is myself I don't trust. You are like him Michael, the man I loved… both of you are beautiful, you are both mercurial, brilliant, unattainable…somehow inaccessible to the deep devotion and love I crave. As if you are here but …not really. I cannot go there to that same torment again."

She was remembering the pain of the end of her marriage in this life, but also another pain, a deeper one, an ancient one. Yet, she recognized this, "But it IS so, darling man, that for the first time in what seems like forever, I can say truly that…I feel love. Perhaps it is…was always you I was meant to love. But, standing here, I don't know what that means anymore. I don't think I can give you what you want." She was deeply affected by her remembered emotion, her current emotion. She was no longer affected by the alcohol. The impact of this was all too sobering. Michael was really, deeply concerned with her. She really deeply loved this stranger who was so much more...and she feared what was happening between them.

Michael sought to tame her fear, to give her a way to them. "If it was destructive, corrosive to you…it was wrong. Whatever caused that to be was wrong…a mistake. Let me show you what it can mean. Let me love you," he said inviting her to be a part of this new thing to him. He deeply loved her and now he felt the delicacy of this state of power…the hope of it, the gripping longing of every fiber of his being for her, the fear of and the sense of the poverty that a lack of love's return was. Most foreign to him, most miraculous, was the fact that he actually felt her pain as if it were his own. He had never been so vulnerable. He had not even thought himself capable of it.

His experience had taught him that the deep, all consuming love he'd played as characters was a myth; as much a myth as the fiction he performed. It existed only in the stories he brought to life. It was unreal, as unattainable as the myth of heavenly rewards. So he just went through the motions, played his part to get what he needed for as long as he could until boredom with his role moved things along another path. But now, he waded into uncharted waters. He offered something that had never before been his to give. "Let me risk the loss."

"But you won't. However short or long our togetherness is, I will be the one to lose …again." She'd begun to recall how many times she'd found him and lost him. " I will be the one who loses… everything … if not by an end of my love because of torments then by loss of myself… in you.

"Trust me. " Michael insisted. " I will adore all that you are. I will not voluntarily leave you…ever."

"Will you bear my inevitable cruelty as I test that on my way to trust? Will you love me when you know how much I will be willing to surrender for want of you?" She remembered…a child she was willing to sacrifice…for Michael. She was horrified at the revelation but along with it returned her strength as a child of her Father. With that gift, she proceeded in this life and its offering. Depending on his response…she resolved she would have him any way she could…for as long as she could, again.

Michael was in awe of her depth of feeling and her honesty. It would have terrified any other man and ended this pursuit. He was certain she knew that as well as he did. He would not lose her by it. He didn't want to. He wanted all that she was. He was part of all that she was, somehow. He answered, "I want to try."

"You are young. Maybe your resilience is what I need." She began to bend to the inevitable.

"I am entirely what you need," he said with his skillful way of being utterly confident and sincerely endearing in the same moment. He'd performed that many times in his roles as leading man. He was grateful the practice had made this time, when it counted most in its truth, so believable. He hoped she believed him. His genuine love allowed the worry of doubt to bleed into his confidence and soften his expression in a way mere performance lacked. The real presence of love raked at the tenderness of his heart bringing the raw pain of his longing to surface. Jillian saw it. She knew his truth. He meant what he was saying.

She thought this to herself as she broke from his gaze,'You are what this world of hurt needs,' meaning the current world who hung on the art of every micro expression in the arsenal he employed in his craft and the experience it offered people to feel deeply, escaping their own worlds to be in the one he gave them. A hurting world always needed that…and so needed him. It seemed the world…all of their worlds …creation…always needed him, his work, his sacrifice, his presence, his strength, his guidance. But she also meant her world. She meant herself. She puzzled over whether she even had a right to shelter in him. Was this wise to risk?

She studied his longing and the hope in his eyes again. She could feel the pull of his desire and the promise of his devotion. He did love her. She would not deny that…she could not despite the "no" of fear screaming in her head for her attention. She could not say no to him…she would never be able to say no to him.

Finally she spoke her heart. "Yes, you are what I need. You are what I want…what I've always wanted. The power of the surrender of her heart brought her to tears as she repeated her truth, "You are what I want…" He smothered her in his kisses. For the first time in his life, he did not want to be anywhere else…with anyone else. He was not just in the moment, but felt infinity sweep him into its fold. There was nothing in creation that could come between them.

They left the bar and went to her suite. They could not arrive quickly enough, stopping to kiss several times en route. But when they stood naked in the room, somehow Jillian felt the magic would break. That all of the thoughts, memories and feelings would dissolve to the fantasy this must surely be. He would see her, so different from the sculpted bodies of young socialites and stars of stage and screen. And his imagined view of her would crash down the curtain. She half expected his next kiss to be artificial; beautiful to look at but devoid of feelings; a stunning façade. But he drew her out with his depth of sincerity.

She played her heart's desire for him through their lips' caress. The world stilled as the doors of eternity cracked open and she glimpsed another time and place: them together, exquisite…winged. The power of the dream pierced any doubt. She had always been his. They belonged to each other in this world, in every world. She remembered that. She saw him in every incarnation and loved him without bounds in all of them and this one. For them both…the earth moved and time stopped as they became what they ever were…one.

Their love changed Michael. His work improved to place him in an untouchable category of excellence. People noticed. Many parts began to be offered. The world could not get enough of him. He loved the work. He loved the roles he was offered. He loved Jillian and their life together.

But Jillian thought she would hinder him and so always stayed out of the limelight which became harder the more in demand he became. May /December relationships were still quite unusual. The world was unrelentingly critical of her as his significant other. Not because she was not charming or lovely or brilliant or gracious and giving but because she was older. He was younger and perfect. And she was not 'in the business' and the media perpetuated the idea that only a great screen star was worthy of him. They only cared about image.

Jillian allowed his public image to be fed so he could be what the world needed him to be. He arrived with his co-star or a stunning acquaintance to galas and awards and premieres. They went together to masquerade balls, but she had to be careful not to monopolize him even then. No one in the business gave a thought to what he needed and finally, even Jillian underestimated what he needed. What he needed was Jillian.

The world and his work began to build a wedge as Jillian's fearful idea grew that she was not the best thing for him. Her love for him wanted the best for him. She did not believe, in this life, she was that. The world didn't believe she was that. They couldn't all be wrong, could they? The world liked the stories of his philandering and he played the part well. It sold magazines and made the entertainment news…but it was just a fabrication now. He had all he ever wanted. He was utterly devoted.

Four years later, Jillian had put this off as long as she could. It was no longer a fear that drove her uncertainty of her being what he needed. She was now certain she was not the best thing for him. She felt she'd been selfish to have let it go on so long. They had love and wealth but she knew he wanted to be a father. He'd said they would adopt one day. She wanted him to be father of his own child. He was a perfection of masculine genetics. He should have his own children and she couldn't give him that. Time had taken the opportunity.

Between movie jobs, Michael was reprising the role he'd played when Jillian had met him. It was the closing performance and Jillian, having decided to let Michael have what she thought he needed more than her, had packed while he was gone and headed to the airport. She would let him have what he needed personally and she was going to give the world and the business what they clamored for, their Michael. She would bear the loss as she knew she would. What she did not know, was in all the lives she'd lived, she had never before been able to leave him…to bear the pain of his loss voluntarily. The depth of her love had given rise to a new dimension.

Jillian knew his strength. She believed he would be fine without her. No one noticed her departure, save Helen Bennet. She often sat in her car up the street from their home, hoping to see him by 'chance'. She'd seen Jillian fill a cab with luggage and hoped. Helen still held hope of Michael's presence in her life. He was hard to let go for anyone who knew him. She hurried to attend his play's last showing hoping he would invite her to be his escort to the after party and more. She sat in the front row near the stage stairs so as to gain access to backstage quickly after the curtain calls.

That night, Michael walked mindlessly through the last performance. His practiced skill had made the play's closing brilliant but he was just insinuated there. Everyone raved and congratulated him. His dressing room was filled with flowers and baskets of wine and his favorite whisky. He greeted everyone and charmed them with his deft manipulation of the throng of well- wishers.

He greeted Helen, too and skirted the crowed to evade her while he checked each congratulatory gift, looking for the one that always awaited him from Jillian. He found it and like an excited child tore the note open. He wanted to read that she had summoned him to her in an exciting and mysterious way of meeting publically unbeknownst to everyone around them…but right out in the open and they would go home or head to an exotic island getaway and make love with wild abandon and they would talk in whispered promises of being together forever.

He had made his choice. He needed only her. He'd decided he would ask her to marry. He read her note. "Farewell, my love. You will always have my heart." He gasped then was frozen with shock and grief. How could she go? How could she leave him? He recalled how Jillian had asked if he would love her if he knew what she would be willing to give up for want of him. He understood that now. He knew it in himself, about himself. He would give up everything else, but her…to the point of destruction.

He felt he wanted her to the point of being thought of as pathetic in his need of her. He had no pride to stand apart from her. Why should he? Maybe that is why she left him. She thought he was weak for loving her so deeply. So, he judged himself weak for wanting her so desperately. Love was a power that took you to great heights…and it took you to your knees. It did not know shame. Only when you were abandoned to it alone did shame take hold. He remembered the things she'd said of love and why it may be best to avoid its thorny way. Now he was there. He hated her for igniting that in him…that kind of love and then abandoning him with it all exploding his heart with the pain of its longing. Love…why?

Angry with the rejection of all he'd thought was theirs he decided he would rid himself of her love's pollution. He ran from his madness into more madness. He avoided the waiting Helen, slipping out the theatre's side entrance into the crowded London street. He disappeared…dissolved into the humanity… then sank as the stone he wished his heart to be into the well of his own baseness.

Michael made the novice's mistake that you had any chance at all… any defense against the hold of a soulmate. He went somewhere he shouldn't have been to rid himself of the plague he carried. He dove into the painted and spangled of humanity infected with a different plague but one that fit his state of being or rather his state of not being.

Not wishing to face the pain of his infection with loss of love alone, he went to a wild club full of the grasping, groping lost. He was one of them... again. He spent month after month deep in the depression of his pain. He neglected everything and everyone he knew. He did his work, but beyond that, he was a shell.

Tonight was one more of the same which preceded it. He staggered into some club of choice. He didn't even know what city he was in. He'd already had too much drink. He wanted his mind quieted . He wanted it stripped to numbness. He continued to do that well and thoroughly. He did not remember how it came to be, but he lay intoxicated, high on whatever concoction of drugs the women surrounding him had given him and washed down by pouring him glass after glass of expensive whisky. The wee hours of the morning found him in bed with three women who now endeavored to pleasure him in every way. They lavished his body in their affection using every technique they could employ.

Michael was famous and beautiful and talented and rich and available…he was their holy grail. They each hoped to garner his devoted attention…or the next guys. He should have been having the time of his life with them…he told them he was. Wasn't he? They at once cooled and fired the heat of their physical advances by each slipping a whisky dipped ice cube across his lips, down his throat, around his nipples, and along his abdomen and along his penis, licking the trail the melting cubes left.

He laughed at first but one of them traced him in a way that caused a flash of memory. He remembered the sublime intensity of a similar sharing with Jillian. How different that was with her mouth on him. While the women busied themselves with their bodies and did whatever they desired with his body, from his soul he wept his longing for her. The one he was without.

The tears of his heart welled up into his eyes and found their way down his cheek to christen the pillow as he turned his face to the side to conceal his emotion. It had been months or was it years. Why couldn't he let go of his pathetic attachment. The soft sounds of the sobs of his brokenness slipped by unnoticed as they were interspersed with and mistaken for expressions of his pleasure. His partners in lust became more fervent in their pursuit of his and their own bodies' reward for their efforts.

One of the women, he didn't know her name or her face, wanted his lips in a kiss of passion. He kissed her in his expert way so as not to seem inattentive. She tasted the salt of his tears and in a rare moment of compassion, she brushed them away, pausing the kiss of passion to read some measure of the pain in his eyes. It was the first time since Jillian that anyone had ever looked at _HIM_.

He found that suddenly bred his craving for the sense of infinity he always found with Jillian. Perhaps he could find it here, again. He took her in a kiss of genuine hope for that which he'd always found in such a kiss with Jillian. He began deeply seeking with his tongue. He pursued her with uncommon intensity. The others gave way to allow his focus with her.

He made all the right moves. He took her to him with fire in his heart. He imagined Jillian was beneath him. They achieved a quick climax in his expert and unusually passionate execution. But his heart felt vacant. He thought if he satisfied her again, he might feel something more. He returned her to multiple orgasm twice more. It was not the same. She was not the same. He wanted more. He turned from her leaving her to recover, to take the next one. He drove her to screams of need in her arousal and of satisfaction in ecstasy of a complex multiple orgasm, he repeated that orgasm after orgasm. She was sexually exhausted, yet he had not found the connection he sought.

Then he took the third woman who fell nearly unconscious in her final explosive ecstasy. Not finding that satisfaction he wanted and then realizing the loss of it, even in his thoroughly and long stoned mind's state, he broke from her and took the first woman again to heights she had never attained. He could not find that which he sought. He lay back on the bed and turned his face from sight to once more conceal his grief from the beneficiaries of his performance of delight to sink into his reality of loss and despair.

He loathed what he was now, here in this moment. He was what he had been every day before Jillian. He was a seeker of release from the pain of lacking. He sought it in the pleasures of the flesh and the mind dulling drugs of escape. These people were nothing to him. This was all product of a fear of solitude. It comforted him even less than ever it had. So now, finally, even his debauchery offered no relief from his pathetic devotion to a woman who would leave him.

He was desolate of heart and angry. Perhaps he could take more drugs. He did. He wanted to forget. Three other women joined him from an adjacent suite. They wanted him to take them as he had their friends, but he passed out. When he came to, the women were still at play. He'd hoped he just wouldn't remember his reality at all. Somehow, tonight, all of this, the sex, the drugs, the alcohol, only heighted his sense of loss. He tried to resist it.

He recommitted himself to the orgy to forget again. Sometime later, during the course of their pleasuring activities, it occurred to him that it was this enterprise that was pathetic, not what he felt with Jillian. That had been more real and at once more an escape to something …what was the word she had used …transcendent…than any drug or experience he'd had ever was. That was, he began to think, extraordinary.

No matter what the pain of their love now, it had been a thing set apart from other human sensation…that deserved respect. What she had given into him made him deserving of respect. Was this that…in any way? He felt he defiled his own body's gift. He'd sought to return it to what was ordinary, but it was too late. He had known what it was to be more and he felt he betrayed what he shared with Jillian by being here. By being this.

His phone on the nightstand nearest him buzzed and he turned straining to glance at the illuminated screen with a brief intense flash of hope for his salvation in its caller. 'Be Jillian', he prayed under his breath. It was Helen. He didn't answer. The three new women still involved in pleasure had been busy with his body. In his renewed despair, he relapsed to them, drawn into the craving of his body for the sensation of release.

The woman who had taken him within her, he didn't know her name either, along with the others who tantalized him from beside and behind stimulated him to a light orgasm. The women laughed at having succeeded in their project. He didn't laugh. His mind and his body drove him to command them. He wanted more, needed more… he would have it. He aggressively took the woman beneath him again.

He ruled her passion and played her body expertly to an intense arousal. These were all sexually experienced women but they had never before been in such thrall. He drew the woman he had coupled with close to orgasm again and again without completion. Then in a masterful accelerated tantric experience, he triggered her body to repeated waves of orgasmic pleasure through no effort of her own and without need of his constant applications. While she reveled in the place he had taken her, he beset the other two. They wanted to pleasure him, but he wouldn't permit it. He was taking what was his.

None of them could resist, none of them wanted to. He took each woman to him successively bringing them to unknown heights and moving from one to the other while the others coped with their mind bending arousal until, at once they could all only breathlessly plead for blissful release. He relented to their wish and in a final all- consuming experience of his unbridled passion's skill they each achieved an unparalleled, overwhelming complex full body orgasmic climax.

His legendary stamina had assured them all of the same incomprehensible enjoyment with him. But this was even more than they'd imagined or were likely ever to experience again. Michael had not disappointed them. He had poured his hurt and his seeking of freedom from it, his inner nature to command into their occupations. When the women were utterly spent by passion's conquest, he lay staring at the ceiling.

He had laid waste to the room with every manner of sexual enterprise and was of himself unfulfilled and hollow. What he wanted, what he sought and could not attain in anyone was an equal. He required the one powerful enough in depth of that indefinable thing that is love, who was equal in sexuality, in passion, in intellect who could at once feed his fire and subdue his conquering force to nurture. Only the one who commanded his love. Only she did he require. Only in her arms was he ever satisfied of body and soul.

Michael lit and smoked part of a cigarette he found on the nightstand and drank what was left in a bottle of champagne. He was frustrated with the situation and overwhelmed with the emptiness he felt. He sought the missing thing. He came to think that which he sought was not of this world, because he wasn't. He wanted to fit, but he did not. He was like the smoke that escaped and rose from his mouth.…here, but not here.

He felt out of place, out of step with time as if what and who he was must become something else soon or perish in the smothering confinement of this hellish cocoon. He threw the drained Champagne bottle aside and smashed out the cigarette with force of the intent with which he wished himself to be snuffed out . He held his hands to his head threaded through his hair and in a manner akin to an attempt to keep it all from exploding from the swirling, burning emotion it held.

What sensation his body had experienced was unrewarding, however satisfying in the instant of climax. But he was not free of Jillian or what they were together. And it was more than that. He missed …himself. He had to restore his power, to find himself . And so strangely, suddenly…he missed his parents. Not his parents here, though. He missed…God. He shook his head. Such nonsense. He had no belief in anything other than what was before his eyes. Yet there was a loneliness, a longing for a missing Presence, in addition to what he wished with Jillian. It was all too much. He felt his chest would break open from the ache of his heart's sense of loss. He had so much, but the key to it all was missing.

Finally, he couldn't bear it, the pain of being and not being whole. He stared at the bottle of pills on the bedside table. If he took them all, this could end…he reached for them. He opened the bottle and poured the harbingers of his freedom into his shaking hand. Then this thought came to him: If he did this he would never have the key to it all. He would never have Jillian again. That was what he really wanted. That was his heart's desire. Not the way of the pills…or this he'd been part of. He wanted who he was with her. He wanted what she was with him.

He withdrew from pursuit of the pills. He poured the false hope from his hand and removed himself from the tangle of bodies. He'd given his last encore. He pulled on his trousers to the intoxicated and half unconscious imploring of a few of the women for him not to go. They didn't really care. They had what they came for. He did NOT have what he was here for.

Where before he was ashamed of what he'd judged as his pathetic love and devotion to Jillian, now he was ashamed by his presence here and where he'd nearly allowed himself to go. That was pathetic…by way of the waste of potential alone. From somewhere in his mind's store this thought rose, he had no clue of its origin, but whoever was the source was wise… 'One endured trial and pain as a means to discovery, as the road to accomplish…to the possibility and purpose beyond it.' Every thought this evening had dragged him further onward… everything he needed was away from here… apart from this.

Now he just wanted away ….away from the shallow and the shame and the pointless escape all of this was. He felt pity for the women he left in their stupor of false fulfillment. They had all been gratified, but certainly not fulfilled…perhaps, as he once was, they had no concept of something more being attainable. He pitied them all the more for it.

He tucked his sox and the undone bow tie of his tux into his pockets. He slipped his bare feet into his shoes. He donned his shirt but didn't button it up in his haste. Stumbling from the mind numbing elixirs he'd partaken, Michael left the women's opulent flat…no it was just a nice hotel room he realized as he was now in the hallway.

He leaned against the wall just outside of the room's door in a pause to gather his still tumultuous thoughts and emotions. In the flash of a moment of clarity he saw his truth. Nothing mattered but the state of grace he felt with Jillian…nothing. Resolved, then he did what he knew he must. He walked away…from everything,

YEARS LATER

Jillian had suffered long from her loss of Michael and was broken and wasted as if savagely mauled and left parched without means to subsist in a barren place. But one day she saw one of his old movies…she hadn't heard word of him or of any new work by him for many years but this one movie, somehow by its message or it's place in time caused her heart to be opened. The one against whom she'd steeled herself from the world, became her salvation to it.

It was a wonderment how that had worked , she thought, but now, she could hear music again. She learned to play the piano. Songs spoke to her, so she went to concerts. Words could soothe again, so she read books, wrote poetry and stories which made her a good living. And she remembered her creatures. She turned to her horses again and the joy of sharing them with people who needed their gentle beauty. When her long -time friend Dr. Donna Davis invited her to join her at her family's cattle ranch in Texas, Jillian took two horses with her for them to enjoy "riding the range." This morning, Jillian's friend had to work , so she rode alone.

Jillian was riding her chestnut stallion, Andariego over the hills, his flaxen mane whipping in rhythm with his gait, her own long hair waving in the warm breeze. It was full and beautiful and silvery grey now. The late morning light was golden and soft, the way one imagines the light of Tuscany would look. The bluebonnets decorated the landscape making it look as if she were in a Monet painting. While riding in a pasture of the neighboring property , Jillian could see a party of three near the old Hansen residence. Two women, one man. They were seemingly riveted by her ride. Suddenly, the man departed quickly as if something seized him.

The shorter woman yelled to his receding figure to come back. He did not. She turned to the taller woman next to her and said something, she left. The remaining woman turned to Jillian and signaled for her to approach. As she did, she recognized the woman was a television celebrity. She introduced herself as Connie Sanders, her real name, not her stage name.

Connie was fascinated with seemingly everything about Andariego. She was an animal lover and was delighted with his breed's way of going. She asked questions about the horse and Jillian until the day's heat caused a decision to be made. She invited Andariego and Jillian to lunch at the house. They rode into the live oak grove where the home nestled. 'Reigo' was shown to a paddock where he was treated to alfalfa and cool water. Jillian and Connie wandered back to the outdoor dining room.

Tea was served by the shorter woman who'd left earlier. She, it turns out was Connie's PA. As it happed, Connie was originally from Jillian's home state and so they talked animatedly about mutual recollections and where Jillian's ranch and family were now. Then Connie shared her current preoccupation. She was here with her gentleman friend for whom she'd found this home.

Evidently, he was more famous than she was but was MIA from 'the business'. He couldn't hire an agency to buy a home or word would leak out. She loved to house hunt and offered to help him. She had even purchased this home, with his money, in her name so he could own a private home anonymously. They were staying in his home on a break from their world travels. She was also an author and she was writing a biography about her friend and traveling the world to enjoy new experiences. They were "seekers of rarity", Connie said with a sly expression.

After about an hour Connie believed it was time to tell Jillian that her hidden away friend was very stricken by her. Overcome with emotion, he had to leave. She had known him for some time and had never seen him so moved. Women screamed at the sight of him, the world loved the idea of him and his movies were well attended, even in re-release, since he'd stopped making them, but there was no personal relationship that could give him solace. She said it was her mission that he and Jillian should meet. Jillian said," He appeared rather younger than me and although I'm intrigued, I'm not a "one night's solace" type."

Connie laughed. "Nor is he" she said. "He is an old soul in a young heart. Not fame, fortune or flings can bring that type of man contentment. I worry for him. He had a special love once and lost it. Rare as it is, that kind of love does happen, and sometimes in the strangest parings. I speak from experience and more when I say, please don't let something as common as age difference keep the possibilities at bay," she counseled in an unusual almost portentous manner. Just then, Jillian heard the home's side door open and close, then footsteps. Their cadence was familiar. Connie smiled the knowing smile of someone who was about to hold audience to a special event then stepped away some distance out of respect for the moment.

A man had exited the main house's private hallway carrying something over his arm. As he passed Connie, they exchanged words Jillian could not hear , accompanied by appreciative acknowledgements. She saw Connie smile and touch his cheek in a way she felt said at once thank you and farewell. Jillian could see as he resumed his way to her that he was tall . There was a grace to his movement only strength could impart. His hair was, a distinctive brown peppered by grey at the temples. His face was cast downward as he approached, intense emotion registered in the part of his forehead she could see.

In one moment, he was standing next to her unfurling the cloth he carried. His nearness allowed her to feel a profound connection with the man. By what she could see of his face, he was beautiful. He draped the garment over Jillian's head and it lay along her shoulders unfurling all the way to the ground as she stood to meet him. Her knees weakened when a wash of the unfathomable enveloped her along with the material he cloaked her in. He bent slightly to ease her crumpling, as by now she was kneeling by his side draped in the purple and emerald garment.

He cupped Jillian's face in one hand and directed her awestricken countenance up to him. A visible discharge of power passed between and around them when skin touched. His beautiful full lips issued a voice she remembered from long since, rich, deep velvet, now roughened by the emotion of the moment he said, "Jilli-an, do not be afraid." Breathless, trembling, Jillian's gaze traveled upward to greet the face of her beloved, in whose eyes, she saw eternity.

Michael had given her a duplicate of the robes she remembered wearing in the Coliseum of Rome in another shared life. Then he handed her a turquoise beaded leather strand with a white eagle feather. Jillian gasped , only then realizing, " You called me Jilli-an!" Her decision to walk away from her love for the sake of her love and his actions following that, finally bringing understanding to him of the lengths one might go because of the absence of one's love, triggered the lock on Michael's sealed recollection. He'd begun having 'experiences'.

"Three years after she'd left him, on a solitary walk through Rome, he passed the Coliseum and was stunned to a realization from the emotion of what he could only call a memory of her there once…with him… in a moment of ending. He'd been searching for her for years following. Whereever he travelled, he had memories of her. He'd enlisted the help of his friend Connie, told her his story. She loved his story. She said she'd help for the love it represented alone , but Michael gave her permission to publish it. It would earn her an ample retirement. Connie walked away now, into the home that was purchased in her name by Michael, armed with her story, giving the two lovers all they required…one another.

Now Michael told Jillian," I remember it all, beloved." He took her up into his arms. They fell together, two rivers in time flowing, pouring, folding together in a timeless passion. As he kissed her, they flashed from that place in a dimensional jump to stand in the gardens of the Silver City. Raphael waited patiently for the release of their embrace. He stood waiting with their son, Michael-Gabriel. They had returned to heaven only one year after their banishment, wiser and more in love than ever.


	23. Salvation Chapter 23 Mercy for Salvation

Salvation

Chapter 23 Mercy for Salvation Part I

Dark Matter

Michael looked into familiar, golden eyes. His reputation was so sullied he did not know her purpose now, "Who are you?" He asked her.

"To you, I am Mercy. "

"Mihr, how have you come to be here?" The bloodied Michael felt his pain leave as the Angel of Mercy spoke and applied her gift.

"I am sent by one who loves you," Mihr explained. Jillian had implored the angel with the gift of taking pain by an empathic block to go to Michael. Mihr could also give departure from difficulty by mental illusion or engulf one in torment by similar technique. For some she was Retribution; for others Mercy and so Michael had asked who she was for him.

Mihr was physically nearby and in disguise. She had witnessed Michael's courage and gotten the measure of "The Monster," Gabriel . She suspected Michael was not what Gabriel had said, but the Light, Jillian had insisted. She sent her gift by mental projection to his mind. "No more questions, Archangel. Our time together is short. _**He**_ will know."

She said with the faces and voices of everyone who had ever shown Michael love or kindness flashing as her own, "Choose a face and embrace me while you may." The experience was more than a dream, though it came to the mind in a similar way. In reality, Michael was deeply unconscious. In his thoughts, Michael, standing opposite leaned toward her and kissed Mihr's cheek with gratitude in his heart. He knew what she risked to be here for him. Then he stepped closer to her and embraced her with urgency as her image began to become the one he'd chosen.

He wanted to hold the warmth of her to him and be one with the comfort and serenity of her offering. He wanted to be without pain for just a moment longer. The face of she- he- wished- her- to- be came forward in full. He kissed her deeply, passionately. Her body and her lips fired him as only his greatest beloved could. She was everything to him. To hold her one last time was indeed a gift. He whispered the name of the one who sustained him, "Jilli-an…"

Just as his passion for Jillian was become a settled sweetness, she was gone. The moment of mercy was gone. Michael woke from the peaceful interlude awash in the fire of his anguish. There was one physically present who had taken advantage. She was there to punish him; to take from him. She began to stand. But now, even as she simply stood to part from him, his nearly flayed body allowed every touch she inflicted to be as it met bare nerve. She had sought only his pain. She had that. Now, fully conscious again and in rawest pain Michael waited for whatever was his next trial.

xxxx

Years ago, when Michael saw the blackness flash in his eyes and realized Gabriel was infected with The Darkness in a vengeful act by one whom he had punished in the harshest way, Lyrae, Michael had understood the only sure way to save his brother was by a sacrifice of love. Only he was aware of this cure for an Archangel infected with Darkness, other than Father and Raphael.

Now he knew why the knowledge was bestowed. But he had struggled with the dilemma that was at hand then. Michael thought there might be another way, since Father rarely left only one route as possibility. Michael had needed another way so that he could remain to help The Chosen One, Alex, to save humanity and so he took a calculated risk for that to come to pass.

Then, he had endured the beating Gabriel gave him by his increased 'Darkness' fed strength and had successfully enticed him to go to Mallory where he hoped their brother, Lucifer may be found. He thought Lucifer may know another way to help Gabriel. He did use a technique with which Michael was not familiar. Holy Fire was used to abate the effects. Lucifer's agent, The Prophet, had called it a cure. Michael had hoped it was.

He had, on his return from his bound lives through time found out it had only been a patch, temporary. The Darkness had regained footing and Gabriel was once more consumed with hatred, especially of everything Michael. Raphael had kept Michael's son, Michael-Gabriel , safe from him this difficult year, but Gabriel had torn creation asunder in search of Michael and all he loved. He required to take or destroy his twin's power and potential. He needed to extract Michael from his life. Michael had been too much a burden to bear and now he was too much a threat to what Gabriel was becoming; to all Gabriel wanted.

xxxx

While Michael and Jillian had been secreted away in time to protect them from the advent of Gabriel's relapse, Raphael had carried on in the duties given by Father and Mother. Raphael also tended independent matters. She had made a vow to one she loved who had been infected by Darkness also, Alex Lannon. She worked incessantly to keep her promise to free him from the Darkness that had taken him from her and the amber encased death that kept him preserved. Hard work had been rewarded.

Raphael had formulated a serum from the unique plant found in the inner garden of Jillian and Michael's home near Helena. It had been brought by chance from the place between the place between places as hitchhiker on a cylinder Michael had thrown into normal space containing instruction to Jillian. The cylinder was found too late to serve its purpose, but a seed from that other world which had fallen from it, took root and thrived.

The resulting plant had been unfamiliar to Raphael so she had sampled it and found out its rare properties. With its serum extract, she had created a cure for The Darkness. Raphael knew the formula worked. She had proven its capabilities with both Alex Lannon and Noma Banks. They had been cured of The Darkness infection and subsequently resurrected from their preservation in amber. She hoped it would work on Gabriel.

Father and Mother were very pleased with Raphael's progress and skill. They too had hoped it would save Gabriel and spare Michael the struggle that lay before him. Such hope they held when, Raphael cured Alex's Darkness and they, together, were able to take the essence powers Father had secured within Michael-Gabriel and return them to Alex, making him whole again of his goodness and safe to be returned to life. It was a gift for Raphael's perseverance and creative genius in making the cure to have the man she loved revived and, when all could be aware, it was a way to honor Michael- to have his first son reborn and whole of himself in his goodness.

Following the resurrection of the young and recent savior of man, though Michael nor anyone beside He and Mother knew this, Father had told Alex of his true parentage. Alex Lannon was Michael's son by Father's command.

Alex had been grateful to know his origin"Father, I am proud beyond words to be the son of Michael. I couldn't have hoped for a finer gift on my rebirth. There is so much I need to say to him. Will I see him, soon?" Alex was anxious to see Michael again to apologize for what he'd done while consumed with Darkness infection.

He also wanted to tell Michael how grateful he was to him… and that he loved him. Father had told him, "Chosen Child, all that you would say to your parent, though he does not yet know you are his son, he already understands. Be comforted to know that his affection is yours. In time, there is a chance that you will see Michael. For now, he is about great duties in my service."

xxxx

Before allowing Alex to be cured by Raphael, Father and Mother had a trial for Michael and Jillian's son; a test of his progress . Since he was a new species, he would be tested many times in his existence. He asked Michael-Gabriel, (the first of Angelicman) if he would be willing to become weakened by the loss of some of himself to help Alex Lannon. Even before he knew Alex was his brother and the original seat of that which he was asked to surrender, he was willing to save him. Father and Mother were pleased. As the essence power departed Michael-Gabriel by the workings of the Almighties, the Legacy mark on his chest burned away.

The child felt the absence of the essence powers. He struggled for weeks following without complaint. Raphael noticed. The boy was so like his father, he would never admit his suffering nor ask for help to escape what he endured for the benefit of another. She took it upon herself to approach Father in his behalf. "Is there nothing that can be done for the child? He is not himself and his loss of self is very troubling to me. My work made his sacrifice necessary ."

"Your gifts and your love made it possible for his brother to live, Raphael. There is no fault in that. The child of Michael and Jilli-an does not ask for your fault in his loss but gives gratitude and love to you for being his brother's benefactor." Father told Raphael.

"Yet how can I face the child for all of his life knowing I was the cause of his being diminished." Raphael said in a continuation of self-doubt's presence in her heart. Father asked, "Again you speak of your own distress. Do you come to me out of guilt to ask me to ease your affliction? I cannot take that from you which you choose to carry. That is a matter for your own heart's struggle to manage. It is a burden the thoughtful and compassionate often carry as an effect of the gift of choice. I bear the burden myself at times. Relief from guilt is a matter of your own self-mastery, my child. "

"Thank you for that sharing, Father. It gives comfort. Forgive my wandering thoughts. I am grateful for your reminder and I will meditate to renew my focus. My appeal is for the sake of love. My love for the child drives me to appeal to end his suffering. I wish to spare him further encumbrance."

"If you are certain that your heart is guided by love for Michael-Gabriel and not to ease a sense of guilt, I will address the issue."

Raphael became tense with concern she had misrepresented her true purpose with a self- indulgence. She strove to be clear. "Yes, with all my heart, Father, I come in love. The child is a blessing of all that is good and deserving of peace and the grace of your mercy."

"Ah, Raphael, my child, be not distressed. Father said as a wisp of His essence extended to touch her head in His own act of compassion. "Michael-Gabriel has in store a life of great trial and great accomplishment, just as you and his mother and father and his siblings and your child has. He must endure this loss of self. The lesson of it will present evermore in his character. Be consoled; all is as it should be. You will be pleased by Michael-Gabriel's progress and your part in it. Be patient."

"Thank you, Father. I better learn the worth of it by your example." Raphael felt the ecstasy of joy wash through that always followed contact with Father. Once the rush subsided, there sometimes followed a fatigue from the strength it required to be sustained, to withstand Presence. Father's intensity was occasionally even wearing on the Archangels who were created with great strength to be beings of His Presence. She retired to recuperate.

Several months later, Michael-Gabriel was playing and had come upon an injured bird. He brought it to Raphael to be healed. Raphael was distracted with matters of importance and put the child off. Michael- Gabriel became insistent and shouted in his desperation to help the small life fading in his hands, "Now!"

A shock wave rushed from the child which nearly took the breath from the archangel as it met him. It was Michael-Gabriel's first 'Imperative' projection, a gift inherited from his father. Raphael was proud that it was done to benefit a life…and amused at the general mess he'd made of the attempt. The wave's sonic property caused a break in the skin of Raphael's hand. It bled lightly. Michael-Gabriel was terribly alarmed. Raphael said to him to lighten the moment, "Well, I see you develop your father's fury."

"Raphael, I never intended harm. Forgive me." He rushed to Raphael's side. With his customary grace he was there fluidly and had set the injured animal on the ground. Then Michael-Gabriel held Raphael's injured hand to his forehead as an appeal for him to grant forgiveness. The minor injury healed instantly. So did the bird which lay at his feet . It flapped its revitalized wings and flew away. Raphael shimmered to female with surprise and compassion.

Michael-Gabriel did not know what Raphael did. He thought Raphael had managed the healing. Raphael saw and felt the healing warmth penetrate all of her to heal whatever may have been injured. She had never felt the power of healing before. She had only ever generated it. She looked on the child in amazement.

There was a bright glow beneath his shirt at his chest. She moved his shirt aside. A Legacy mark had returned. It was beautiful but different from the one he'd borne previously. The flame within the oval rose from a staff embraced by a serpent lying horizontally. Yes, by the fire he would have his Father's fury and skill in battle… and by the staff, the means to heal. His fire would be a servant to his compassion.

Raphael wept in the Presence represented by the mark. She knew her job of teaching Michael-Gabriel had just gotten more complicated. Still, she was overwhelmed with awe at her Father's magnanimous gift to Michael-Gabriel. It paid her great honor for her work and nurture in his care and keeping that He bestowed her power as gift to acknowledge her loving appeal to Him for the child's loss of his essence gift to Alex. "All glory is yours Father," she said with all of her heart full of love for her Father's greatness.

Noma and Alex were wed now- mated. They had discovered their child, Alexa's, infusion with Darkness by being born of Noma when she was infected. Noma had witnessed the shriveling death of a pet snail by nothing more than being in Alexa's hands. This had been why terrible things happened to her and around her. She was the cause, killer of her pets.

They had cured her with Raphael's formula. This was further proof that it had efficacy, as the child had been infused with Darkness at a cellular level and still recovered. It was cause for great hope that Gabriel could be cured without the tremendously costly sacrifice of love.

In the interim, Alex and Noma were developing a marvelous association with their daughter and her adoptive parents, General Dianna and Ladienne. All of them were in hiding now. Raphael had helped conceal them from Gabriel who would have tortured and killed them in his all- consuming search for Michael.

Over time, Raphael had found it within her to be happy for Alex and Noma. She had saved Noma, preserved her, so that Alex would not have to know the loss of someone he cared for. The two had both lost some memory from their death experience by Darkness. Alex had no recollection of his love for Raphael.

He did not recall their night of passion or the deep love between them it revealed. Raphael did not share with him that he was L'ann's father. She would one day, but that time was not now. Alex and Noma's shared experiences brought them ever closer as Raphael's duties kept her ever away. So be it. She let him go to his happiness.

Raphael was content to have had time with her child born of her love for Alex, L'ann on Omna Michel. L'ann was adopted at her request and Father's demand, by Jillian and named for love and honor of Michael, whom they'd believed was deceased at the time of her naming. Raphael was honored to have fostered her own child and Michael-Gabriel while Michael and Jillian were away. The children were extraordinary people, a joy. They were also inseparable companions.

Time was given to be certain the cure that Raphael had created and used on Alex, Noma and Alexa was, in fact, that. Perhaps too much time was given because Gabriel had moved to imprison Father and Mother. He isolated them in a niche he'd created using the formulas and calculations Michael had shown him when they were trapped in the place between the place between places. He had sealed them there with a Legacy Emblem. Another thing Michael had taught him to create.

Only Gabriel possessed the key to the Legacy Emblem sigil. It was a year ago now since Gabriel had used his Darkness fed genius to lure his Parents into the time/space fold trap. He had carefully only used the part of his genetic code not shared by Michael. So that not Michael, Father or Mother could operate it. His Father and She Who Is were on the sealed, keyless side and all of creation bore Gabriel's madness unguarded. He was a great savagery.

Gabriel was become a monster without bounds and a threat to all things and so he was called that, "The Monster" by those who suspected he was inventing reasons to destroy. He was visibly changing, physically. Under the influence of The Darkness, he spared no atrocity to creation in search of Michael and as manifestation of his Darkness fed madness.

He had spread the idea that Michael was to blame for the destruction he wrought. "If only Michael would turn himself over to him," Gabriel was to say," all would return to peace and prosperity." He told everyone that Michael was a danger to all there was. Few realized the danger was actually Gabriel.

To prove Michael's destructiveness, he took them to see the place between the place between places. He showed them the devastation Michael caused there. He said Michael's destructive power was a side effect of the changes in his brother's matrix as a result of his conflict with Lucifer. He told them no other angel or archangel could have done the damage they saw there save Michael. He named his brother, "The Destroyer."

Everyone feared the changes that were rumored to be happening to Michael. Now Gabriel confirmed the changes were ill gotten and he proved the danger to them with the tour to the place between the place between places. His followers believed Gabriel was acting in the best interest of all to hunt Michael down. Gabriel told them the changes to himself were a gift from Father and Mother so that he could fight Michael and save all from his misdeeds.

He told everyone that he had hidden the Almighties away to protect them from Michael. So he had thoroughly made it clear that Michael was the enemy. Most everyone believed Michael had to be found and stopped or all would be lost. They, with Gabriel's encouragement, took license to ravage the worlds for the sake of safety from Michael… "to find him or make the worlds uninteresting for Michael's use", they would say.

Raphael was one of few who knew Gabriel had to be stopped. In a rare meeting over dinner with Gabriel, he had administered his newly found cure for Darkness . He had distilled it to a greater strength and slipped it to Gabriel secretly in his food to no avail. A bolder attempt was to follow that failure. Raphael was become unwelcomed at Gabriel's aerie, so he had to engage a brave soul who volunteered to administer it by intravenous means.

A higher angel, Daniel, who had worked with Jillian in the medical field after the Apocalypse of Lucifer, had witnessed Gabriel murder a hundred people and angels in his town because he believed one among them had seen Michael. He knew it was not true and following the disaster, joined the underground resistance to "The Monster."

Daniel volunteered to administer the cure. He attempted it as Gabriel slept. He succeeded in administering the full dose…but Archangels are never unaware of their surroundings unless unconscious. Gabriel had been deep in thought, as well as rest and so the injection was possible, but Daniel was caught in the act by Gabriel. Gabriel had subsequently tortured Daniel. Daniel was forced to say in public, before he was put to death, that Michael had coerced him into the attempted murder of Gabriel. It was more damning evidence against his brother, Michael, The Destroyer.

The serum had not worked…even injected. Raphael determined Gabriel's archangel genetics was the difference. He was impervious to any cure that had been attempted. There was one cure Raphael knew of, a sacrifice of love. But no one could be found who loved Gabriel, purely and wholly enough to become the power of a cure.

Raphael loved his brother, enough to die for him, but it would not serve as a cure because his sacrifice would not be done without doubt or without some resentment. The offering would not be pure and so would not work. He was ashamed of that and began the work to amend his failings. If and when he could be ready, he would serve in hopes of being a cure. Without that, it appeared nothing could hold The Darkness woven into Gabriel's body at bay. All creation was in his grip of madness and lies. Everything and everyone was at his mercy.

Gabriel's insanity was primarily focused on Michael's new powers. After he'd captured his Parents, Michael was all that stood to challenge him. He had torn creation apart looking for him. So much was destroyed…so many.

Gabriel fancied his destruction was equal to Michael's power of creation, which was unleashed in the place between the place between places taking Michael back in time to seed the creation of all things. Gabriel thought since Michael had also destroyed in a manner, to serve creation, so did his own destructiveness serve creation. Gabriel 's genius was set to incomprehensible twisted duties by The Darkness that held him.

Michael was more developed and powerful now by and through his blend of darkness source and god matrix. He had been so changed by his matrix evolution that even the Darkness within him was altered to become a creation power.

Gabriel did still blame Michael for real or imagined failings and he did resent Michael for his many gifts and for his growing power. And Gabriel knew what Michael did not. He knew Michael's creation power and what it was and had been capable of. Gabriel felt covetous of Michael's power …and threatened by him. If he couldn't find a way to take Michael's power, he would have him destroyed. Either way, he had to have Michael.

xxxx

Raphael explained all of this… everything that needed to be explained and told all that had transpired over the year of their absence to Michael and Jillian on their return from bound lives. What he didn't say was told to them in message scrolls left by their Parents. Raphael let Michael and Jillian absorb the enormous volume of information and finally said what had to be said, "Gabriel will end all there is to either possess your gifts or end you, Michael."

Michael looked on the waste laid before him of what was left of the Silver City after Gabriel's 'searches'. He felt the deepest guilt for being the cause, the source of this. He gazed on it all in full realization of what had to be done. "This has to stop, at all costs," he told Raphael. "I know how."

Raphael had hoped that could be the case. He'd had the idea that Michael's return was not only because he and Jillian had fulfilled their atonement and lessons but to save everything else from Gabriel's sickness. It was time to kill him or cure him for the good of all things.

Since Raphael knew of only one other cure which he could not undertake and certainly did not want undertaken by Michael , he hoped either Michael would know of a way or his mate would use her power to smite…to obliterate Gabriel. He was not wrong. Michael knew the cure.

Xxxx

Michael had never learned well that failure was part of his path toward the goals of Father. Indeed, it was sometimes the only path to achieve where Father required his children to journey. To Michael, failure was unacceptable because Father did not create imperfection. If he failed, it was because he had misused his gifts. And he wished to avoid failure because his duties were so great that failures always had enormous consequences.

Yet, there were times his failure, even his disobedience were necessary to get Father what he required or to serve Father's plan but it was taking a long while for Michael to understand the lessons of failure or wrong doing. Even to this day, he had never learned to let go of guilt over his failings, however necessary they were. He held the guilt as a kind of self-punishment to remind himself he was imperfect in all things and all ways. He thought it was the way to insure he would stay humble.

He always had and still drove himself relentlessly to perfection in order not to inflict others by his failure. He was a consummate warrior, general and protector. He pursued perfection in all of his skills. When he was not engaged in those practices, he trained his mind in multiple techniques of analysis, control and discipline. He also studied the vast knowledge available in Heaven's library.

Many thought him a stick-in-the-mud, some thought him a tiresome, arrogant, strutting peacock. But Father loved his son's craving for knowledge and perfection. Yet Father knew the need for him to know more, to grow in a different way . The need for a specific and new kind of savior gave opportunity to add to Michael's education. Michael was given the duty to lay with the woman, Charlie in order that Alex Lannon would be conceived. It had been Michael's first experience with a human woman. Their encounter was a catalyst to much that would affect Michael's future.

Though Michael did not recall his encounter with Charlie, the interaction changed him. Thereafter, Michael craved the intimacy of the daughters of man. Human emotions baffled Michael. The complexities of their moods, how they felt, were not his forte. He defended the righteous and punished the wicked. He was a pure being. He met passion with passion, fury with fury.

Love was not a complex thing for Michael. He loved wholly, purely. Love was steadfast. It did not go away. Love was to be honored. It was a separate thing from passion. Passion was simple for him and all angels. It filled a physical requirement. It satisfied the corporeal desire for pleasure and then participants parted unencumbered. No devotion between them was necessary, leaving them free to serve Father. If devotion did grow, they could be mated, but service to Father was always first.

Human love was not the same. A human may be devoted to another human. That devotion served Father by their love for one another as His gift in them. Human love was a convoluted thing full of every responsibility and every emotion which ebbed and flowed. It could give all and take all… sometimes at once and…it could betray.

Human love required effort and devotion beyond the act of pleasure and angels were made to serve only Father. To divide their attention to serve the love of a child of man was not permitted. To have an offspring with one of mankind was entirely too distracting to an angel, not to mention the devastation Nephilim always caused to angels and man by their inevitable tendency to abuse their superior intellect, power and strength. Therefore, it was patently forbidden to have a child with the daughters of man.

Because of this, Michael was tormented by his newly awakened desires and the wrong he felt he did seeking out the daughters of man, risking a child. Father intended Michael's change of interest. He knew Michael would be vigilant about not fathering a child. It set the stage for his future and the closeness he would experience with humanity as his only companions if he acted as Father hoped… as their protector…to save mankind.

Though there were…difficulties…the plan did also prepare Michael to act as the mentor he would need to be with the Savior. It also was the way to make Michael ready for his life with Jilli-an, to, at last, be a father and blend humanity with Father's made children. Father was nothing if not thorough.

Father had designed Michael's Nephilim…his son by the human, Charlie… to be different. He would be born with a pure heart – free from any Darkness. It was that purity, that power which had been housed in Michael-Gabriel. It had been saved from Alex's Darkness and returned to him once he was cured.

Father had given Michael a separate note within the message cylinder to explain these matters. He had keyed the message to open Michael's memories when he read a particular section. When Michael read the part which told that he was Alex's father, at first he smiled to know. Then his guilt surfaced. He had created a Nephilim! One of the greatest forbidden acts in all angeldom. How could he? How could Father have asked it? He read on.

Father explained that He had given Michael the duty to lay with the woman, Charlie to conceive a Savior for mankind because mankind required a warrior soul in a pure heart and Michael had been the only key to that. He explained that from time to time, such couplings were required to give man the protector they needed.

As Guardian of Mankind, he hoped Michael would see there was honor in the duty. He explained that Alex had died in the grips of The Darkness, subsequent to his attack on Michael and Gabriel. He told Michael the contaminated Chosen One had been laid to rest, preserved in Amber. Michael gasped to hear this news. He had not known. He calmed shortly, as Father had keyed the words to command him to do so in order to finish his message.

Michael heard his Father's voice in the part of the message keyed to unfolded his memory:

" _Your duty to seed the Nephilim, Alex Lannon, within the human woman, Charlie, was sanctioned, Michael, done by my requirement and my order._

Michael recalled the evening of the act of intercourse with Charlie, then. He had been nervous. Not about the act of passion, but about seeding the child of man, the woman. He met her in her home. He had waited for her to enter her bedroom. He was prepared to seduce her as necessary. He disrobed.

He felt shame in his nakedness for the first and only time in his existence and so brought forth his wings for coverage. Just as he did so, and before he could cover himself, Charlie walked into her bedroom fresh from her shower. She was not afraid of him but was drawn to his angelic beauty, as a moth to a flame. Father had made her open to him and to lust for him on first sight.

She was as a creature of need and want and fire. She went to him in deepest desire and passion and more. He met her passion with passion. And as he took her to him, he felt something he had never felt before, something more than passion. He felt more than lust for his own need to be fulfilled, he desired her. He craved her body. The way she felt fascinated him. The way she loved him captivated him. She didn't just love him with her body. Because she was given to be entirely open to him, to receive him and the child in love, he felt her soul.

The spirituality of his own soul was ignited by hers. He gave more of himself to her than he had ever given anyone before. He felt more in the act of passion than he had ever felt . When he climaxed to leave his seed with her, he achieved a height of orgasm he never thought possible. It was intoxicating.

He wanted more, but she fell fast asleep once her duty was fulfilled. He watched her sleep for a time. She would not recall their encounter. She would never know who fathered her child. He wondered if she had felt the same…devotion. He had done his duty, and she had done hers, but why did he feel this way? With his unsettled state unresolved, finally, he left her bed. He felt confused and frustrated. As he left her home, he forgot the encounter. He forgot Charlie, but craved to have carnal knowledge of a daughter of man.

He rejected the forbidden lust and returned to his chambers in his Father's house in the Silver City. He tried to meditate away his disturbedness. He failed. He, that night, went to earth again. He went to the Mirage Hotel in Las Vegas. There, he seduced a group of women out looking for pleasure to join him, all of them, in a few hours of passion. To his shame, they did.

He took them to the Presidential Suite. They all undressed and shared a bath in the suite's enormous pool-like Jacuzzi tub. To their pleasure and amazement, he satisfied them all, all five of them. But Michael found little gratification for himself, apart from the moment of fulfillment.

It was not what he desired. Still, he craved human company. He wanted to feel something he couldn't name. He would seek the thing he missed many nights thereafter, he recalled, finding it very few times despite his thoroughness of pursuit over many years. Michael's memories paused as he read onward of his Father's intentions:

" _I felt you required to be unburdened of the act but I wished you to learn to love as humanity was gifted to love, with your soul and so to learn the treasure of this possibility, thereafter, you were given to seek the company of the daughters of man. It was my wish, not your failing, Michael. I regret your sense of shame in it, but it was a necessary education. "_

At least he knew why he was so driven. And how much it all prepared him for when he'd found his heart's, no, his soul's true desire and fulfillment with Jilli-an. Father's message proceeded:

" _Further I wished you to be protected and so did The Chosen one need this. Therefore, I removed the memory of the act from you and the mother, so that you would at least not feel the guilt of the conception or the responsibility, as that was not necessary at the time. I provided Jeep for the mother's companion and the child's nurture._

 _However, your nature gave you to protect the child even though I thought better of my work in order to protect what_ _ **you**_ _were and are. For that, it was I who asked Gabriel to make certain the child did not reach his potential. Though you have forgiven Gabriel his threats to Alex, now you know why he sought to end him so vigorously. You protected and saved the Chosen One, your child's godliness and rightly so. You gave me what I required even when I was not certain of it out of my fears for you. One of a thousand reasons you are the gift I never expected, my son._

 _I and your Mother have returned your son to his life in full as an honor to you. Michael-Gabriel has given of himself to serve that and Raphael has been the means to his cure. I hope his restoration and return is a joy for you. I leave the choice to you whether or not to share this with Jilli-an. Alex has been given the news of your parentage as a gift at his rebirth._

 _I know you will continue to do your duty as you see fit. Know that my love is with you and in you. My hope is that your sons will be for you all that you have been to me and have become to your Mother."_

Michael was very moved by his Father's message. How he loved his Parents! There were no words. No words for his love for them or for his family, Jilli-an, Michael-Gabriel, Alex, Gabriel, Raphael and his dearest L'ann whom he had adopted with Jilli-an. He did shed a tear for love of them all. But foremost at the moment, he wanted to see Alex, newly revealed to him as his son, before confronting Gabriel. Unfortunately, the less Alex knew about his plans or whereabouts and duties now, the safer he'd be. He wanted Alex safe. He thought how little that aspect of their association had changed. He would leave a message for Alex… to say he loved him.

xxxx

Raphael was with Jillian and Michael-Gabriel and L'ann now as they waited to attend Gabriel when he was cured and to honor Michael . Time had been long, and complex but it seemed time, as they knew it, was expired. They moved on their bold and desperate plan.

Their one last thread of hope was that, as Michael was so greatly changed and the more powerful source of The Darkness, yet still so genetically similar to Gabriel as his twin, maybe Gabriel would bend to serve him as Source and follow Michael's command to end the destruction he had unleased on all things and free the Almighties.

Plans were set… arrangements made. There were rules which had to be adhered to in order to make the cure for Gabriel viable. When he felt he was ready, then Michael went to Gabriel's new aerie. He was not admitted easily. Flights of Gabriel's defenders besieged Michael. They all wanted the honor of delivering him to Gabriel. Michael drew his swords and met their barrage.

It was necessary that Michael present himself. This was required to activate the purification process that would make Gabriel's cure. He fought his way determinedly and fluidly through the Higher Angel guards who were interspersed with Angels of the Second Sphere, The Powers, in an attempt to baffle Michael with alterations in skill levels.

The fighting was an extraordinary thing to behold. Michael's techniques were spellbinding. The precision with which he met and ended each attacker was unequalled. The evening darkness was pierced by the flash of Empyrean steel clashing his even stronger black diamond metal blades. In the high desert chill, the storm exacted by the dynamically charged currents of air that Michael's speed and force of blows drew from the sky caused snow to fall.

The vacuum of dimensional jumps created thunder. The ice literally burned, not melted away . The forces engaged in battle separated the hydrogen and oxygen and they exploded to flame from the power of blows inflicted. Plasma lightening infused the night with an eerie glow as it flashed almost constantly through the fractured air.

The ice clouds created by the pulverized snow's refrozen vapors flashed as auroras in presence of the dimensional jumps used as tactics. It was as if he had foresight the way Michael predicted where they would reappear. In actuality, his gifts allowed him to see their dimensional tracks as they travelled. Some he beheaded before they became fully dimensionally present, their severed heads falling on materialization. Michael in battle was an awe inspiring art of terrible beauty. He poured over them like a ferocious flood.

Michael stopped the assault dive of one of the Powers by meeting the point of his blade with the point of his own blade held over his head, without even looking up, while simultaneously cutting the oncoming angel in front of him in half. Then he executed a sliding side step to allow the overhead angel to descend while he sliced upward, killing him before he touched ground.

Michael did a forward vertical winged flip in order to, by wing, behead the two angels attacking from either side. When Michael accomplished the full winged flip he landed knee to ground. He thrust his sword behind and upward to end the angel attacking from behind while, with his second blade he swept to the side to behead the Second Sphere angel who was the first's back-up.

Then, still on one knee, he leaned backward to duck an attempt to take his head without losing visual contact with the ongoing action above and around him. He returned upright, still in low position and in a spinning and ascending slicing spiral round, he ended the four angels who had intended to surround him there.

Standing straight now, he did a side sweep kick to avoid a sword blow and a horizontal spin flip to change his position to more open ground. On gaining his footing he stood and executed the oncoming angel with a high thrusting kick which crushed the angel's chest. Sweeping one sword behind his head to gain momentum he turned and slashed down on the angel attempting to fly in low behind him and severed him lengthwise.

The sparks from the battle lit the night as if a new galaxy were forming, as the flashes refracted in the crystals of the falling snow. Every move Michael made was a lethal blow flowing into the next in this unparalleled ballet of extermination. He fought through them all with fury and intensity, as creation depended on this. His brother's life depended on this. With only a moment of breathless recovery following the last kill, he had made his way to the room where Gabriel casually sat at table.

Michael sheathed his swords as he entered the dining room. Gabriel waved off the new flight of attackers. Michael said, equally as casual as his brother was in seeing him, "Brother, I understand you've been looking for me. I've come to visit." The lower angel servants of Gabriel began dragging the bodies of the fallen who lay in mangled stacks behind the Archangel to clear them away.

"So you have!" Gabriel said glancing at the carnage in his brother's wake. " I can't imagine where you've been to keep you so long in your arrival." Gabriel said, somewhat shocked and also impressed his brother had made it so deeply into his aerie as to be standing neatly in his own dining room.

Gabriel stood from his opulent meal to face his long sought nemesis. "And what could we have to say, after all? But do allow me to share my hospitality. Join me." He said with thinly veiled intention to show him anything but that."

"Gabriel, you know why I'm here. " Michael detested the game- playing strategies Gabriel favored. He was more a shut up and get it done type. These bantering tap dances just took up time. Gabriel still sought to prolong the game despite Michael's prompt to get to the heart of it. Gabriel shrugged, feigning his cluelessness.

Michael continued to seek a way to the point, "This destruction must end by whatever means." Michael regarded his brother's condition. The Darkness of his core's making had so thoroughly begun to consume his brother that the tendrils of its roots had spread to be present on the surface of his skin; its blackness so deep it looked dimensional.

It robbed his skin's health where it streaked in its spider web wandering making the skin ashen. This was visible on the right side of his face, down his neck, on his chest, at his arms and hands. Gabriel would eventually become an unrecognizable thing…a free roaming will of The Darkness. He was nearly that now. There was no time to lose.

Michael's heart hurt for how destructive his own inner being was becoming to his brother and thus unleashed from his own control of it…to everything. Again, he felt self-loathing for his part in this horror. He was responsible for this.

He thought he had purged himself of the guilt over this and had proceeded with only love for his brother but found the guilt resurfaced now. He had to have time to make this right; to make himself ready. He would have to parry a bit with his brother to give himself time. Surely he could come to terms quickly.

"Well, I'm not given to surrender my games. What do you have to offer?" Gabriel queried.

"What is it you want?" Michael snapped at this opportunity to give himself time to recover himself, knowing well the answer.

"Well, your power. Can you transfer it, say to me?"

"No, Gabriel, I cannot. That possibility has been removed. You know that to be true."

"Then, I must have some consolation. Surely you see that?" Gabriel thought to lend reason to the unreasonable. Michael gave him the answer he knew Gabriel wanted, "Yes."

Michael's cool façade was a masterpiece. It concealed a great inner struggle. It was clear Gabriel did not recognize any subservience to the Source of his Darkness . Michael had come prepared to give more of himself, but hoped his increased powers would give him command over his core's released Darkness and he could avoid what was to come.

Evidently, something had changed to prevent that possibility, if it was ever a possibility at all. Michael had two choices. Kill or cure. He only considered one. He caused this, however inadvertently. He would not suffer his brother to pay with his life for an act of vengeance begun as one meant to hurt him by Lyrae, nor for the means and consequence of that vengeance which his own core generated.

He would save Gabriel. He would cure him, for love of family. Now, Michael fought the stab to his mind and heart of the sense of guilt. He had to or it would bring ruin to all. Gabriel did not know about a cure. All he would know was that by this he would get his rabid and madly sought vengeance upon Michael.

Gabriel had no clue that was the very thing that would break his dark power. Father and Mother knew. Raphael knew. Jillian knew when he explained. He knew… now was the moment of truth. But this guilt had re-entered his heart and he needed time to become pure of intent, guilt-free.

"I have a condition before we proceed."

"What?" Gabriel snapped, beginning to be annoyed by the delay.

"You must end this ravaging of creation. No more death to satisfy your whims."

"Well, I never was much for keeping promises but…if you insist. Naturally, I accept the condition. So …you are… willing, then…to save what is left… to be delivered into my… keeping?"

Michael took a long deep breath as he silently considered his next move. There would be no turning back now. He replied, "Whatever you require, Brother. I won't resist."

"Good." Gabriel purred. He flew at Michael in unrestrained rage. He took him by the throat and choked him, holding him in the air. "How shall I end you? Should I smother the life from you, the way you've smothered my hopes and possibilities my whole life?" Michael could not have answered if the cared to. His lips were nearly blue from the oxygen and blood deprivation of Gabriel's grip.

Before Michael fell unconscious, Gabriel flew upward so that with fury, he could slam Michael to the stone floor. What little breath Michael had was forced from him and he gasped a new one quickly, before Gabriel put his knee to Michael's chest. Gabriel broke his brother's ribs with the force of the compression. Michael winced when his bones broke under the pressure of his impossibly strong brother. "Should I crush the life from you, hmm?" This is like deciding what pudding I want!

He punched Michael in the face first with one fist then the other. " Should I pound you to dust, perhaps?" He lifted him by the neck of his shirt and coat and threw another punch driving Michael into the ground with force. He hit him that way again and again until his brother was bloodied and nearly unconscious again.

When Gabriel had taken out his heart's desired beating on his brother, he sought another way to break him. He stood over him, brushing his hands off, "Well , take a breather, Michael. I don't want this to be over too quickly. No, I want to keep our 'visit' exciting as long as possible. How else can I get EONS worth of retribution for all the things you've done to me?"

Gabriel's mind played for him some of the things he held against his brother. His torture by Lyrae flashed momentarily, but foremost in his mind, in a flashback, he saw the child he raised as a father, David, the delight of his heart. He saw him bloodied, dead because, Michael , the child's guardian and facilitator of his destiny, was explaining the child's death to Gabriel , " …I was not swift enough to catch him."

Gabriel screamed aloud now at Michael, who was trying to raise himself up from the floor to stand, but the force of Gabriel's foot to his chest and his next accusation took his strength and he crumbled to the floor again in the face of it: "Like David…YOU killed my boy out of jealousy! The most formidable Archangel in creation and you imagine I'm to believe you weren't swift enough to prevent his fall?! YOU KILLED MY SON, he accused , screaming that to Michael's face."

Michael slowly closed his eyes in regret at the memory Gabriel resurrected. He couldn't blame Gabriel or the Darkness for that one. He blamed himself for loss of David. That Gabriel did also, that was Darkness fed. His brother, beyond his Darkness insanity, had forgiven him for it long ago, yet the twinge of doubt that his forgiveness was not true was a worse pain than any physical blow.

Now, Gabriel dragged Michael like a ragdoll by the scruff of the neck at the back of his coat to a chair in an antechamber that had been designed to torture, to punish…to kill angels by electrocution. He threw Michael into the chair, strapped him in and made an adjustment at the power panel. He looked at his brother archangel and cranked up the power …"I remember… you can handle it, yes?"

"As you wish, Gabriel," Michael answered quietly. What Gabriel wished for was Michael's screams. It's what he wanted…screams of anguish. But his brother was so stoic. He would have to be creative to get him to be so demonstrative as to scream. During this course of subjugating Michael, Gabriel had a diabolical idea. He gasped a long breath of excited realization with its horrible possibilities unveiling for him.

He'd thought of a way to insure every moment Michael remained alive would be one of pain. Yes, he was bored with his electrocution idea before he began. He knew from experience that Michael would be able to tolerate that to the point of death with a minimum of, if any screams. So Gabriel whispered to an attendant who rushed away. Gabriel looked at his brother and said, "Oh, I'm going to love this, Brother." And he left.

Michael had thought he might die being electrocuted by Gabriel. It would have been too soon. Thankfully, his brother formulated a way to postpone Michael's death and now the bound archangel waited for, he knew not what. Gabriel clearly was interested in other 'games'. Michael didn't ponder how it had all come to this while he waited. He continued to work to purge himself of guilt over David, over The Darkness that ravaged his brother. He had to survive long enough to be purified of his own guilt.

He recalled the joys he and Gabriel had shared: their Making Day celebrations, the magnificent victories in battle they had won as Father's two great Generals, the beautiful sound of Gabriel's horn as he heralded creation of news of Father's Glory, his brother's gentle compassion that had risen countless times to soothe Michael's burdens and quell his fury. He recalled the goodness he knew he was saving, even as he waited for the ugliness that would walk through the door next. He was not wrong to expect ugliness.

Gabriel had gone to the stables and chosen a strong Welrupt who was ready to implant an offspring. He had thought to implant a Welrupt infant for his brother's body to host. He took the infant from its parent, causing it and the infant great distress. He didn't care. He didn't care if the infant lived or died, he just wanted it to feed on his brother while he was fully conscious - hopefully for days. The anguish would be marvelous to watch.

Surely the agony of the Welrupt's feeding and the poisons of its secretions would illicit a scream here or there. There was a reason the parent paralyzed the prospective host…to keep them from killing themselves to escape the pain. It would be a great misery. He giggled, pleased with his ingenuity.

Gabriel walked back into the room where Michael was waiting bound to the chair. Michael saw the infant Welrupt Gabriel carried in a small cage. He realized the intention. "Gabriel!" He said astonished at the prospect and wishing to say for him to not do this, but he resigned himself to the fact that he'd submitted to this willingly. He would not resist . He could not. It was one of the rules, part of the process that was required to provide the cure its power.

Two higher angels pulled Michael's head back by his hair. Gabriel moved in closely and seethed through his teeth to Michael, "Open your mouth…Brother… and swallow the punishment for all of your lies." Michael hesitated, knowing the outcome of this undertaking. "Michael….open!" Gabriel insisted. Slowly, Michael made himself comply. As soon as Michael relaxed his mouth and opened to receive the parasite, Gabriel grabbed his brother's lower jaw to open his mouth widely and he shoved the beast into his brothers mouth violently. Then he watched in delight as Michael suffered it to enter his body.

Its clawing undulation cut at his mouth, blood spilled from its corner and trickled in a stream down his neck. Michael groaned in pain. Soon, he was unable to breathe while the beast blocked his airway as it moved within, though he struggled to take the breath he required. When the Welrupt was far enough along Michael could not expel it, the two Higher Angels released his head.

Michael choked and coughed violently as it crept, clawing down his esophagus. His body wanted to eject the invader. He bent forward into the discomfort, as much as the chest strap allowed, then back forcefully when he felt the sharp pain as it pierced his stomach to enter his abdomen. The Welrupt infant chose an organ to which it attached its umbilical. Through it and its tendrils, it would feed on the host's body until maturity and the subsequent death of the host during its violent birth. Michael moaned in distress as it seated its umbilical.

Michael hoped he didn't live long enough to die by a Welrupt birth. He breathed heavily, gasping as he recovered from the invasion. He struggled with the idea that his brother could have inflicted this on him. It pained him that Gabriel was so far gone from himself by infection with The Darkness … his own core of being…the guilt…it was still there.

He had thought he was free of guilt in making his decision to be here. But the raw brutality of what his own Darkness was causing Gabriel to be was so shocking, he could not keep it at bay. In addition, Gabriel had brought some legitimate wrongs into play. Was he purposely reminding him of failures to make his guilt ruin the cure?

No not Gabriel…Gabriel didn't know…but The Darkness did! Had it become a sentient presence in Gabriel? Did it know that he, Michael, its source, was a threat? Was it a sentient force within himself? It did drive his fury, sometimes beyond his own reason, as with his being Father's Flood, as when he was seized by it to retaliate against betrayal…to kill Becca Thorn and to attempt to harm Alex. And then there was the horrific destruction of when he'd released it to exert its full … intent…in the place between the place between places.

It did have its own intent! It called a protector to it from the amphora it occupied! Exposure to it in quantity was too much for even him to fight the effects…at least in the past. Yes it did have intent; to preserve itself and to destroy. He wasn't only fighting Gabriel's infection with Darkness, he was fighting himself. He must win this internal battle or all would pay the cost. It may not be as easy a task as he'd thought.

His forgiveness of himself for his failures had always been the most difficult of things. Now, his guilt may have an ally that threatened the success of this undertaking. He must purge his guilt or spoil the offering. Whether or not The Darkness had a sentient part, it was clear, he would have to fight the battle of his life, for Gabriel's life because of it. He would have to do it while under a brutal physical siege.

The Welrupt began its first meal. Michael reacted strongly to the pain it caused, but to Gabriel's disappointment, did not scream. There would be other opportunities, Gabriel thought to himself. Regardless, Michael would from this time until his end, never have a moment without pain. This made him smile. But his smile had no real joy. It was just a savage imitation of it.

Pleased with how his general plan of torment was proceeding, Gabriel now thought of a way to ingratiate himself with his fellow angels, who'd begun to be leery of his destructive madness and crazed leadership. Gabriel would give all of those he'd freed from the Outer Sphere who were there by Michael's hand, leave to retribution on his person.

They'd tried once to take revenge on Michael while he was in Vega and failed to accomplish the goal. This time they would achieve their vengeance. They all would. Gabriel instructed them, "For the next twelve hours, you are permitted to do as you will to Michael. You may not take his life. Only I get that privilege. To deprive me would incite my wrath."

They formed a tribunal which devised their plan. One hundred representatives would strike a blow each with an empyrean steel barbed cat of nine tails. Nine lashes with each strike; 900 reminders of his audacity, they thought. It was maximum punishment for minimum effort. The empyrean steel barbs would slice even an archangel's skin as deeply as they could manage to lash him. They informed Gabriel they'd arrived at a decision.

"Make him ready to transport. Pin his wings. Make it a 'Proper' pinning. I don't want him dimensionally jumping or soaring into the sunset in the middle of our games." Gabriel told the attendant angels as he left. The two High Guard looked at one another in shock. "Gabriel," the higher ranked Second Sphere angel asked, "did you mean to ask for a Proper…"

"Be silent! Do as I ordered! This is our most dangerous enemy. You will do as I say." The stunned High Guard went about their assignment. They unseated Michael from the chair where he was bound and cut away his coat and tee shirt. They roughly pressed him to the stone and shackled him facing the nearby wall.

They placed the pin of Empyrean Steel at the point of origin on his sheathed wing and drove it deeply into place. It trapped the wing by interrupting the signal of his body to open the dimensionally displaced sheath where it was stored. It pierced the flesh and went deeply enough to reach the Transdimiter organ within, where it met the dimensional field .

It went into the dimensional signature then, not further into the body as it appeared. When it was deep enough to interrupt the dimensional code, the wing nor the sheath could be accessed. They did the same to his other wing. A Proper pinning also inhibited the signal of his body's Diminsor organ to initiate dimensional transport. They called the process for archangels a "Proper" pin to avoid saying the thing it really was. Tethering. It was a simple thing to tether any other angel from dimensional jumps. It was done with the same pin as pinned the wing. But archangels were different.

It was Taboo in angel culture to tether an archangel. Only Father could order it. As a being of Presence, the archangel must be allowed to attend Father at all times…no exceptions. It was a great humiliation and dishonor to be tethered…prevented to serve purpose; to be barred from Presence. It was a horror to archangels and affected them emotionally, deeply. Only Lucifer ever suffered that disgrace as a fallen archangel. He was permanently tethered from Presence.

The member of the Powers reluctantly went to a safe in the wall of Gabriel's dungeon and opened it with a scan of his retina which had recorded the order of Gabriel to access a specific weapon within. Only access to that was allowed. The angel took the container made of a carved gem…amethyst. He returned to where his fellow angel awaited and Michael was bound and opened it hesitantly.

The two angels swallowed hard as one reached for the ornate tongs which allowed them to pick up the pins made of an unknown material and one reached for the mallet of emerald. The tethering pins shimmered. They were here and they were not. Only the tongs allowed them to be held. They hummed in a low frequency. Michael reacted to the frequency. He gasped from the effect and tensed. He became very uneasy. It threatened him.

He trembled lightly with heightened defensive alertness, like a thoroughbred anxious to bolt from the gate. He clenched his teeth as he struggled with his impulse to break away. His breathing became heavy and deep as he was primed to require more oxygen to feed his body's needs for doing battle. He felt driven to protect the Holy thing; His gift of Presence.

Even at a distance he felt the constriction of his dimensional capacity to reach the celestial plains. One of the Powers held the pin in place at Michael's back, just inside the location of his wing pin. Michael withdrew from it, hugging closer to the stone wall he was shackled to. The second angel stood ready with the carved emerald mallet. But he wouldn't drive the pin.

Gabriel reentered the room just then to watch his brother being tethered. He kept his distance from the horrible pins. He was pleased it was affecting Michael so strongly and he was annoyed with the hesitancy of his soldiers. He watched them shrink away from their assignment until he could bear it no more, "DO IT!" He shouted with unbridled hatred. The fearful High Guard drove the pin. Michael closed his eyes and caught his breath as it seated.

He stood frozen in despair… at his loss of access to Presence; to Purpose. Michael became silent, still. He was despondent in his loss. He simply stared at the wall before him and swallowed hard, the anguish of knowing his brother's degree of contempt and the great loss he now endured reading in his eyes as the second pin seated. He was only the second archangel to ever be tethered. It was a great shaming and a horror to Michael's soul.

Gabriel was effusively overjoyed. He ordered the High Guard to drag Michael outside where the tribunal's select had gathered. They removed the shackles from the stunned Archangel who stood in shock. They went to put Michael's torn coat over his shoulders , to conceal his shame…the Tethering. "No. Let everyone see," Gabriel said coldly.

Michael was flown into place. Whispers of shock arose as they gradually realized the Archangel had been tethered. The Powers secured him with chains at his wrists and ankles and drew them taught to hold him in place, suspended between the walls of the narrow canyon. Then, without ceremony, the appointed ones had their turns, each flying up to him and delivering their retribution with fury. Every knife-like barb in place along the lashes sliced or gouged and pulled away his skin. Some barbs pulled off of the lashes and embedded into his flesh. They shredded him and delighted in it.

Michael was so engrossed in his sudden departure from grace that it took the intensity of the flogging to waken him to his need to act. He began the mental work the circumstances demanded. As the cuts grew deeper, he would flinch or clench his teeth to inhale a 'sssst' of distress. He could not help but gasp when they lashed more tender areas of his body. They left no part of him unaccosted. He did his best to hold sway to the pain of the lashings between the more pronounced reactions he could not prevent as the excruciating feedings of the Welrupt deepened their draw on his body's resources.

The toxins produced by the empyrean steel poisoning and the maturing Welrupt were taking their toll quickly. He fell unconscious once during the flogging when the Welrupt found his heart upon which to feed. His constant mental work finally engaged the mental pain barriers shortly afterward giving benefit of his advanced techniques to control the discomfort of these combined affects.

When the angels had finished their punishment, as the place Michael hung came from shadow into light, they then had let his nearly flayed body burn in the late afternoon sun and then freeze in the early high desert evening as they made ready for part two of their plans.

Ordinarily, Michael would have healed considerably from the lash work and his brother's beatings in a couple of hours. He'd healed some everywhere there was no empyrean steel poison, but not as much as he'd hoped. In addition to the toxins, the Welrupt's feeding was depleting him quickly. There were too many open wounds and too much poison to manage.

Throughout the experience he worked in multiple mental disciplines on multiple levels of conscious and subconscious thought as he did his best to focus blocking pain and on purging his guilt. He had tried every meditation technique to reach freedom from it. Turmoil continued to plague him. More than meditation was necessary. But it was the way to prepare his mind for the dynamics this work would certainly require.

He fell unconscious once during the flogging when the Welrupt found his heart upon which to feed. His constant mental work finally engaged the mental barriers shortly afterward giving benefit of his advanced techniques to control the discomfort of these combined affects. It was just in time. When the angels had finished their punishment, as the place Michael hung came from shadow into light, they then had let his nearly flayed body burn in the sun and then freeze in the early high desert evening as they made ready for part two of their plans.

A flickering drew his attention from his pain management and his inner struggle. There were fires being lit in the canyon floor and up the walls of the cliffs to make the open canyon bright in the night. Michael's breathing techniques and meditation had kept him busy, but now the tribunal's second demand was to be met. They called for his attention. "We will require you to present your wings Archangel." They were predictable at least. He expected them to want that.

He looked to Gabriel who was seated in a grand stone chair carved midway up the canyon wall on an outcropping. Gabriel had joyfully observed his flogging from that vantage point. Clearly, he was looking forward to this chapter in his Darkness dictated journal. Michael had hoped for some indication of opposition, but Gabriel only grinned in expectation.

The appointed angels brought the chains and hooks to bind his wings from retaliation or flight when they had completed the task of unpinning them. Gabriel stood and shouted, "Stop! Michael has pledged to me not to resist our retribution." Gabriel glared at his brother defying him to voice objection. Michael stared back at his brother and with a slight nod confirmed Gabriel's announcement.

"See, he knows his guilt!' Michael's brow furrowed when Gabriel said that but he remained silent. "Michael will sustain your punishment freely. Do not bind his wings." Surprised murmuring began to waft up. Gabriel was not finished, " To demonstrate my magnanimous nature toward my misguided brother, I command him to be both unpinned… and untethered!"

Here was Gabriel's way to announce that he had tethered Michael. It pronounced his power to have been able to do what before, only Father had authority to do. Then it made him appear gracious to undo it. And there was this. Unbound, Michael could escape. He could leave here by his wings or in a dimensional jump. His choosing to stay lent credence to Gabriel's assertion he was guilty of all that Gabriel had told the worlds . His brother and his Darkness tempted Michael's resolve in the extreme. He would bear that to cure him.

Michael did as required. He remained of his free will. As he'd anticipated, they began to sever the flight feathers. The throng of them rose up and roiled around him like locusts swarming, ripping feathers as they raked and hacked them from his wings by force of hand or with swords, as they pleased.

Some in their frenzied state did not resist the temptation to strike a few blows for good measure. He held his composure as they struck at him. Their madness graduated in intensity with each circling. Some resorted to biting. Often they missed feather and took his flesh. One purposely, savagely took a bite from his chest. Michael's drive to do battle, to protect the holy estate of his person, was difficult to subdue. He roared at the inflictor and fought his bindings.

He saw Gabriel rise from his chair in excited expectation of his brother's retaliation. Michael wanted to bite the throat out of the biting angel, but recalled his purpose in time. He turned his head as far from the attacker as he could to accept and endure the punishment. If he retaliated, his bid to become Gabriel's cure would be lost. He quieted the storm of his own nature. Gabriel flopped back into his chair disappointed his brother did not break to resist. He wanted him broken in every way. He wanted it witnessed that he had broken Michael before he killed him.

Some of the throng clawed Michael savagely, leaving their scratch marks even on his face. Then the punishers did the unexpected. The broiling ball of angel brutality broke away. Gabriel gave a signal with the motion of his hand. Others flew up and poured holy oil onto what remained of his wings. They set the oil afire. This was the only fire that could incinerate an archangel's formidable feathers and flesh. Michael's wings burned.

As flesh burned away, Michael tensed and lifted his head back to scar the night with his scream of anguish. There was only silence. His breath had left so quickly, no sound issued but it etched the walls of this canyon and the hearts who witnessed never-the-less.

The sight of the great Archangel bound, bloodied and aflame in an anguish no one of them could have borne was a thing that impressed the soul. Even his tormentors paused in the moment. After his silent scream, Michael fell unconscious. Gabriel was incensed by the absence of the sound of his brother's scream. Michael had no clue that was Gabriel's goal.

These hadn't taken his wings entirely, they wanted them left bare as a shame for the archangel to carry…like a brand of dishonor, even in death. All that remained were the bones. They appeared as an organic lace in their complex intricacy. Even this way, they were beautiful. They draped gracefully from his person, limp, bare, hauntingly motionless in the leaping firelight whose licking illumination continued to play as a shadow of the earlier lashing and consuming savagery .

The flash burn had not taken what remained of his clothing after the flogging. His trousers had been mangled but a bit still clung at his waist in the way of a slim loin cloth. Someone of the angels had taken his boots during the flogging. He couldn't remember when or who. Only that of him soaked in the oil had burned…only his wings. It was a neat and bloodless way to ravage wings. It was also the most painful means.

When they finally let Michael fall to earth, releasing first his legs then his wrists, he fell from the great height where they had bound and suspended him to deliver their retribution upon him, onto the multitude of scattered and mounded loosed feathers which had been cut from his wings. Michael managed to fall onto his side so less of his scored body met anything solid. The hard landing stole the breath from the barely conscious Archangel. He gasped to recover. With considerable difficulty, he sheathed what remained of his wings.

As he lay there, on the edge of consciousness, trembling lightly from the stresses of assault on his person, his ragged breathing interspersed with soft expressions of his great discomfort, Gabriel approached . He set his foot to Michael's shoulder and shoved him to the flat of his back. With his foot to chest he pressed him forcefully to ground…so his severed quills would stab at his raw flesh. Then Gabriel dragged his foot rakingly along Michael's chest to add to his broken skin's agitation.

Now he was bringing pressure to bear on Michael's throat. Michael's breathing became rasping as air tried to feed his lungs past Gabriel's weight. He released his pressure and used his foot to direct Michael's chin and so, his gaze to him. It was disconcerting for Michael…to see the face of his dearest brother, so changed, so filled with hate. It was so mind shattering to grasp that his pain was at the hand and by the intent of one so cherished.

Gabriel stood over Michael. His words tore at his brother with their fury, "Spend these last moments with what remains of being winged. Flight is as far from you ever again as we are apart as brothers." He shoved Michael's face away with departure of his boot and walked away, leaving his twin to suffer. By Gabriel's words, by the unrelenting means of the Welrupt and his wounds of punishment, by his inner struggle, he did.

xxxx

His mind reeling from his ordeal, Michael had fallen unconscious following Gabriel's departure, but his practiced critical levels of mind had not been idle. They replayed the moments of his discussion with Jillian, days ago, while planning the move to stop Gabriel - when he had told her of his decision .

Michael had decided to cure Gabriel of Darkness. There was only one cure left for him, the blood of a sacrifice of love. Jillian fought his decision.

"Michael, I am not in favor of this plan. Please, allow me to smite Gabriel. This is not his first betrayal of all that is Father's intent for creation, of all that is honorable… of you. There is no one more necessary to heaven or creation than you. It is not prudent to sacrifice yourself on the sword of guilt for what he has done. He deserves this fate. I will not have you gone from me because you cannot forgive yourself being what you are and must rally forth to slay this Darkness every time it rears its head. You did not extract the Darkness and spread it about. Someone else bears that guilt."

"Jilli-an, we have tried all of the other _**acceptable**_ options. Smiting is _**not**_ to be considered, save as a last resort…only if I fail to produce viable cure. Only if I utterly fail, Jilli-an." He paused and regrouped. He had become angry…not at Jillian, but at the idea he might fail.

He proceeded more softly. " This is not the rash action of an ill-considered guilt." Michael had not been willing to acknowledge it, but guilt was part of what he'd felt over this horror that his Darkness had befallen his brother and creation. He had begun the mental work to undo that guilt. He'd thought he had succeeded then. He had argued his point to Jillian.

"I am equipped to undo the ravages of The Darkness. It is not guilt to acknowledge the truth of my part in this Darkness driven disaster and it is not imprudent to take the mantle of one's duty. Jilli-an, Gabriel is my brother, my twin. The good of him is enough to make him worthy of my giving all I have to save him.

The fate Gabriel suffers is by my hand and so it is my responsibility. The source of his affliction is me… The Darkness is mine. It is what I am; what is at my core of being that corrupts him and ravages creation. It is because of my judgment against Lyrae that this was inflicted upon him. It is not guilt. These things are fact. These facts bring me to duty. You cannot ask me to consider otherwise. I will not. I can't."

xxxx

The intensity of his inner battle caused Michael to startle awake. His abused body's hurt was overwhelming as he lay in the chilled darkness of early morning and his way of taking breath read of it. The occasional angel passersby took opportunity to strike a blow or cast their alcohol containing beverage to sting his wounds. He let them do as they willed while he resumed his mental work to control the pain and sort through his inner difficulty. To that end, he returned to conscious thought. Still it was of Jillian.

In his hour of need, as ever, she was part of his strength. He had blocked his thoughts to her the moment he entered the aerie in order to prevent her from knowing any suffering he might meet. He took comfort knowing she did not know what he endured now and was safe with their children. She would remain that if he did not fail. Yet failure was a serious possibility now.

Just in range of his blurred sight, the way some of his former feathers were cupped and coiled together reflected light and reminded him of the scroll Father and Mother had left for him and Jillian. Raphael had presented it to them on their return from their bound lives. Michael began recounting in his mind what Father and Mother had written. He'd read the words of the Almighties while he sat in a still beautiful hidden garden that remained in the ruins of the Silver City. His mind carried him there…

The scroll he read explained about Jillian's near attempt on Michael-Gabriel's life thinking to free Michael from within the place between the place between places. They explained how she had not intended to follow through and, " Jilli-an was innocent of that fault. She had decided, before our intervention, to spare Michael-Gabriel out of love for him but… now Michael heard this in the voice of his Father…"There were great lessons required of Jilli-an and of you Michael, as well as your protection from Gabriel until you were both ready to face his threat." Father had written.

Michael's memory recount of the scroll reading was interrupted by his own thought analysis. He asked himself, " How could our time away have readied us for this ?" The Almighties explained many of the reasons why they were sent to such a trial to bound lives through time. Michael heard the words in his Father's voice again, "By your lessons in time, you have learned how better to love. Michael you have learned the way, gained the strength, to forgive yourself. You will need that to carry on."

He thought they meant to forgive himself for his doubting Jillian when he'd believed she would have killed their child for love of him. He had forgiven her. It was part of the reason they were returned to regular time and life. He loved Jillian more now than ever he had. But did Father also mean he was to forgive more?

Even without having them defined, his lessons were well learned. He had learned well enough to forgive Jillian's attempt on their child's life by misunderstanding and from a madness of grief. Even without knowing she would not have followed through, he'd forgiven her. He'd come to know the heights and depths to which love or the absence of it, could drive one by his own experience.

He remembered how, when they faced Lucifer in Mallory, Jillian had told Lucifer that his insanity was, in part, caused by his being removed from Father's presence, from His Light. That memory pricked his mind. An idea formed. Oh… No! Is that what The Darkness was? Being removed from Father's presence, like a mental tethering? Darkness caused a madness of grief of every kind. Was it because it was a manifestation of an absence of Father's Love… and Light? Was The Darkness a thing not of Father?!

How could that be within him!? Anything that was not 'of Father', he wanted nothing to do with. He was Defender of Holies. How could the Unholy be part of him? He wanted to extract it! NOW! In his mind he stood from his seating in the garden out of shocked realization. How he …HATED…yes, he hated that Darkness in himself!

He would rip it from his core by his own hand, carve it from his being. He reached for his chest with both hands to grapple with his heart's turmoil. His mental anguish carried him closer back to consciousness as his thoughts sought to flee this revelation.

There, in reality, the Welrupt fed on his heart. It drew his life's blood the way the Darkness drew Light from his soul. His hands were at his chest in reality as well. As his mind drew him to a state of waking, he could feel the stab then the crushing, drawing pain of the Welrupt's enterprise. He retreated from the physical pain back to his thoughts …to the garden in his mind.

There, with nowhere to turn from agony or anguish, Michael screamed in his mind with every part of his being. He screamed to free himself from his physical pain and from the overwhelming horror of self-hatred, that there was part of him…a thing inside him… that was not 'of Father'. He wanted to throw off the burden of his own soul. There could be no greater depth of torment.

There in the beautiful garden of the Silver City in his mind, Michael fell to his knees and collapsed himself, in a drape of wretched despair, over the ornate black marble bench opposite him. He wept bitter tears. His tears fell in reality as well…silently …sharing space with his lost blood…each escaping him into the cup of his severed feathers.

xxxx

Jillian flew into the quiet and bare walled white room of Mihr's aerie. Mihr needed her surroundings to be simple so her thoughts could rest in the emptiness of her home's embrace. Jillian had been searching for her since she'd found out Michael's duty would subject him to Gabriel's madness driven cruelty. Raphael had helped her locate the Angel of Mercy. He waited outside, keeping watch to be certain they were not followed, ready to defend if they had been.

"Jilli-an, I can't say that I was expecting you." Mihr said coolly and annoyed at the intrusion to her solitude. She sipped her hot tea then replaced the delicate plain white cup of bone china onto its saucer which sat on a simple table of white ash wood beside the only seating in the room. Mihr stood from her repose upon the large white woven silk covered chaise beside the only table in the room.

Jillian gave a wing address to Mihr. She bowed her head as she explained her presence, "Mihr, I am here to implore your Mercy for one whom I love."

The surprised Mihr said with some disdain and the punctuation of her sneer, " I should think you would salute respect to no one, First of Father's First."

"I am aware of what you have been led to believe, Mihr. However, I pray your indulgence to my cause."

Mihr gave a hand gesture indicating for Jillian to continue despite her misgivings. She didn't want Jillian here. 'The Monster' would have her killed simply for meeting with one of Michael's family. He may yet kill her for having this conversation.

"Michael has surrendered to Gabriel. You are aware of Gabriel's …opinion… of his brother?"

"Yes. Their encounter will not go well for your mate and rightly so if he is 'The Destroyer', as Gabriel has told us."

Jillian defended her Beloved. "Michael is not The Destroyer, Mihr. By Father's Will, Michael is the Advent of Salvation, The Sword of Heaven, Hand of Father's Wrath, Defender of Holies and Guardian of Mankind. He would never do the harm to creation Gabriel attributes to him."

Mihr reminded her, "Jilli-an, your mate is the greatest killer in Angeldom. He is assassin to the Almighty. He is the definition of "Destroyer". He has fallen to dark places beyond Father's command before by his Fury and mistaken 'interpretation' of duty . Perhaps then, he was only serving his innate bloodlust, his need to murder. It is conceivable he has done so again.

I have seen and heard strong evidence Michael is a terrible danger to all.´ Mihr could barely conceal her horror as she whispered to Jilli-an of the devastation she'd witnessed. " Have you seen what he did to thousands of miles of the place he and Gabriel were trapped after the attack of The Chosen? I am not certain he is worthy of any grace… any at all." Mihr turned and walked away from the mate of Michael. She stared down the long windowless corridor to her inner sanctuary. She wanted to go there now. She wanted solitude.

Jillian had not seen the place between the place between places, there had not been time, but Michael had given her the events by mental transfer. She said to Mihr, "Michael is one possessed of the greatest power and the greatest duty of any of us. He sometimes struggles to bring it under his mastery. But he bears it all on his shoulders, for the good of Father and Mother's plan; for the benefit of us all, Mihr.

Consider that which caused such a blight was manifested in a place where none of mankind or angel kind had to bear the power's brunt." Mihr swept her hand at Jillian's words to wipe away the suggestion of any thoughtful method of control on Michael's part regarding the ripped and savaged landscape she'd witnessed.

Jillian pressed her reluctant hostess, "You know of Michael's Redemption. Father does not redeem the unworthy. You know of his service as Guardian of Mankind and as Bringer of Salvation. You are aware Father and Mother gifted him a new matrix, that it was not an infusion by Lucifer that changes Michael. Anyone can see how Michael strives for perfection in his service and to be ever more than a Bringer of Wrath or Defender of Holies by only the Steel of his Sword ."

Mihr retorted with contempt, "I begin to think Father, like his mate, would forgive their precious Michael anything!"

"Perhaps that is true but, as with any of angel kind, neither my Father and Mother nor I forgive without the deeds and reasons to earn it. Surely you must see how your perception has been twisted by Gabriel's rhetoric. I know Michael's heart and it is mighty, great and good beyond the concept of what we know. Think, Mihr! Whatever you believe of Michael, you have seen evidence of his power. You know he is the only one who can throttle his brother's activities. You must know Gabriel is mad…"

"Be silent!" Mihr shouted, cutting Jillian off and fearfully looking to see if they may have been heard or observed by house staff who might be the eyes and ears of Gabriel. She recovered herself and slipping close to Jillilan, she whispered, "You say Michael will stop "The Monster" by his surrender?"

No one could know the whole truth of Michael's duty or the how of it. It was enough that many, evidently, including Mihr, thought if Michael just went to Gabriel the madness and destruction would stop.

Now, Jillian knelt on one knee before Mihr, "I beg you by all that is sacred, go to him. See, judge for yourself. The fire against creation will leave Gabriel's heart by Michael's surrender to him. You and creation will be secure. You have my word. I will do whatever is in my power to do for you, if you will go and give him reprieve from his ordeal."

"You know Gabriel will kill me...or worse… if I offer Mercy to Michael." Mihr said. She feared to go to Michael. She believed Gabriel could be right about him but more importantly, she knew "The Monster" would know of her presence and he had so many killing powers…some, she was certain, no one knew of.

She knew how Gabriel despised Michael and she feared Gabirel's retribution for her helping Michael more than feeling bound to her duty of Mercy. Mihr struggled for a moment with her need to do her heavenly work and her fears. She did think that Michael's surrender would quell "The Monster" and that was good for everyone. Besides, the longer Gabriel could be occupied with Michael, the longer everyone else would not have to cope with Gabriel's insanity. Finally she asked.

"Can you promise me safety?" Mihr had stated her price; the cost of the fear which kept her from duty.

"Not during your visit, but following that, yes. Will you risk much for one willing to give all?"

"I will go to him," Mihr resolved, "but I will not grant more than is earned."

Jillian rose to her feet and said, "I trust that you will not be dissuaded from Mercy when you have seen the Light."

xxxx

Mihr had arrived at Gabriel's aerie in time to see Michael's flogging by the tribunal. She was in disguise. Everyone saw her as a meek non- threatening angel of no consequence. She moved among them easily as if she were invisible. She needed to feel invisible. Her fear required it. She was here and had been gathering evidence despite her fear. Her call of duty in the face of such violence was winning her personal struggle and giving her clarity.

She heard the whispers of the angels in attendance of what Gabriel had said and done earlier when Michael had arrived, how he'd beaten him. She recalled Gabriel had tethered Michael, to protect the Almighties from his going to them to harm them, Gabriel had said. It was extreme, but conceivably true. Then she heard of the Welrupt being purposely seated within Michael.

She'd seen him fall unconscious from the draw of its feeding. That was not an act of any form of justice or reason. That was an act of…Darkness. She suspected Gabriel may be infected when she'd seen his eyes flashing black in the light of the fires as he watched his brother being, for all intents and purposes, flayed. Gabriel's eyes weren't normal.

She witnessed what Michael did voluntarily. She watched him endure what he could have flown from when he'd been asked to present his wings and they were left unbound. He could have slashed the chains and left there. She had walked to where he lay when he fell from the chains. She watched his struggle now. He was not bound at all; not tethered. He could dimensionally jump from here, yet he remained.

She saw him grasp his chest as the beast within him by his brother's doing fed on him again. She watched his unconscious battle now. She witnessed as a tear fell into his severed feathers. She was moved by the horror and evident sacrifice of it all. She began to think Michael was not what Gabriel had said, but the Light, Jillian had insisted. She felt her duty begin to replace her fear.

Just then, Mihr was taken up by a flight of rowdy angels wishing her to celebrate with them. As they flew over him, they had thrown the contents of their cups onto Michael, aware the alcohol would bring him discomfort. So as not to draw suspicion, as her lurking was causing that, and to keep up her disguise, she flew with these to have a drink with them and contemplate her next move.

xxxx

In the play of his mind's eye, Michael was offered the hand of an Almighty. Mother opened the void above him as he was bowed in despair in the Silver City garden and called him to her. He rose and flew to where she was. It felt as if he had flown for a very long way. His wings felt heavy and finally he had to alight. Darkness surrounded him. There seemed to be nothing…anywhere. Mother spoke from the darkness as he settled to a ground that could not be seen beneath him. "Your Father has shared your origin with me, Michael. He would not tell you, but I feel you must know. She played the moment of his making on the screen of the darkness about him.

He was within a nebula of concentrated creation particles. It was stunningly beautiful. Every color, every chemical reaction, every biological code and product, every physics and some unknown to any but Father were in play here. Michael was unformed but his consciousness had been ignited. He blazed with an uncommon beauty and intensity. He felt the immense power of his Father's presence beside him. Father was delighted by him. He felt his Father smile and felt him say, "How marvelous!" Even though Michael sensed his joy, his power so near was frightening. Michael was confused and so he kept asking, "Why?"

There was no answer and he was afraid in the silence and darkness until he felt another consciousness beside him. It was a more playful consciousness and not so powerful and fearsome. Its loving nature comforted him. It didn't ask why, it just said, "I am here". It was a comfort to Michael's thoughts that the other believed that to be here should be enough. It was a comfort that another was there.

But Michael could not stop asking questions, "Why are we here? What are we?" He felt the 'other's' lightness of being in his answers to Michael's questions:

Michael: "Why are we here?"

Other: "We are here."

Michael: What are we?"

Other: "Let us be here."

Michael: "What are we to do."

Other: "I am here with you."

Michael thought of Gabriel's love and steadfast devotion to him even then and smiled.

Mother said to Michael, "Even then he had purpose, Michael. You have always been Gabriel's purpose. He loves you for that as much as he resents you for the burden." It hurt Michael to hear Gabriel resented being purposed to be his brother. He reacted to the hurt quietly but remained attentive to Mother's discourse.

"Together you were formed, but not for the same purpose. Gabriel is not your purpose. Your purpose is to ask, to wonder, to seek, to create, to protect. In essence, your purpose is to grow."

"How did we form in the same moment and form so differently?" Michael asked of Mother.

"Behold." Said Mother.

As Michael's consciousness was being worked in the nursery, Father was completely engrossed in the task until Gabriel's consciousness fired a warning to his Maker and a defensive charge from himself around his other, wishing to protect his twin. It shocked Father. He had not expected that so soon in their development. The warning did alert Him and He saw the reason for it just as it crashed into His being.

It flew through Father, then into and through Michael. For a moment, Michael was not whole of himself. Gabriel formed a retaining wall of his own life nebula to hold his twin. Father was dazed but saw what the twin had done. It was extraordinary!

"Why?" Michael was saying. "I am afraid!"

"I am here." Gabriel told him.

Michael began to unform and Father worked frantically to save His precious child. It was difficult, as He was wounded from the impact. Parts of Himself scattered in the creation Nebula of Michael's Making.

"Hold me," said the Michael consciousness.

Father redoubled his efforts spurred by the knowledge that he had created uncommon sentience in both children. He shored the particles of Michael the impact took with bits of Himself and bits of Himself He did not intend bled from His own wounds into that he formed of Michael. It was not enough.

There were odd particulates not of His making in the way. They were not exactly particles but piercings through dimensions of space/time, yet they had form and mass. The depth of their blackness was a darkness even in the void. Father knew the particles to be pieces of what had struck them and He knew He could not separate the dark matter from the new consciousness in time to save the child.

"Keep…me…" Michael was weakening and fading from formation.

"I am here," Gabriel said to his twin, "I keep you."

Father could not bear to let the Michael nebula fade away. He moved over him, made physical contact with the consciousness and in a storm of His own life plasma, Father fused Michael into a lifeform He had never before, nor would ever again create.

Whatever it was that struck them, it too, was now part of the creation of Michael. Father toyed with a particle of it while He waited to see if the new being He made would become, as Michael had grown silent in a new coalescence of re-creation.

Gabriel continued to say, "I am here." He said it again and again as he could not bear that his Other should feel alone and afraid for any moment of his existence.

The particle Father investigated was matter He had not seen since His own awakening. He had forgotten it was part of the chemistry of making Him and His Other. It was something He had not imparted to any other creation. How had it found its way to become part of this nursery? It was a mystery to Him. He housed the particulates He gathered from His nursery and locked them into an amphora for safe keeping. He labeled the amphora. It was part of original creation; a creation force even Father was not certain of.

Michael strained to see the label from his vantage point watching the proceedings but couldn't. He watched as his Father waited for him to waken to his second birth of making.

Michael's consciousness fired to life again. It was more. More than His Father could ever have imagined. Michael was beautiful and powerful and nothing Father had ever made as a being even approached him. "You are as beautiful as my own born children, The Almighty said into Michael's nebula. He wept for joy when Michael spoke. Michael asked, "Why?"

Father addressed his Made children. He honored the twin who saved his Other first. "I name you child of mine, Gabriel, Messenger and Herald for your alertness and Brother's Keeper because you have done more for your Other than any."

Michael watched as his Father named him, I name you child of mine and child of my heart, Michael, Most like unto God, because you are formed of My own life force."

Mother narrated, "He shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have a Made One filled with so much God matrix. You would be utterly unique. You would be a discovery at every turn."

Thus named, Father put the two essences into the finest physicality's he could fashion…Bodies of Presence. He made them Archangels. He fired the essences so that they melded within their powerful bodies and left them to rest together until their awakening maturity.

Father picked up the Amphora to place it in secure keeping within his vault of Holiest of the Holies. He put it with the h'ors 'a min , not the amphorae that would be wielded as weapons by the archangels. As he placed the Amphora, Michael saw the label: The Darkness! Michael's mind reeled in confusion, how did a h'ors 'a min become one of the seven amphorae of archangel's weapons? He was about to ask when…

…He was again on the canyon floor. He _**was**_ part of Father. More a part than he ever knew. Darkness was not separate from Father. It was unique to His being and Mother's. What a terrible Power it was. What a tremendous responsibility to hold it. He did not know how his Mother had come to him or if She had truly done so. Perhaps this was a memory of his Making Day he'd always held but had never accessed. Whatever it was or however it came, he was just saved from himself. He had an incredible thought. Had The Darkness just given him a gift?

xxxx

He opened his eyes to the night. He saw the Milky Way as its spiral arm reached across the sky over the canyon in a starry swath of sparkling remarkable matter and gases. He was made in a nursery like that one. He was woven together with stardust by his Father's hand. Had he just been to the void? Was he just delirious? Michael became agitated with himself momentarily.

Perhaps he should take better control of his thought process. Time was short. He needed results. His face read of his frustration. Finally, he rejected his idea of applying resistance to his way of thinking. His agony and growing weakness was making him anxious for a resolution but he could not force this.

He had learned long ago to allow his training to have free reign in such times. He'd learned to let it work him through the problem. He had to trust there was purpose to these thoughts and how they proceeded. He opened himself to their flow.

With a cleansing, breath, he carried on. Part of his mind controlled physical pain. His higher thought faculties split their duties to analyze…well… everything. One part took him back to the Silver City's garden, back to be seated on the bench holding the message scroll from Father and Mother.

He recalled reading that he was told of being Alex's father. He allowed himself to be happy in the fact. As he lay embroiled in his current struggles, he thought of both of his sons and of his adopted L'ann. It caused the shadow of a smile to cross his bloodied face as he allowed recollection of his many gifts to center him; give him strength.

How blessed he was to have been given all he had ever wanted in his life. He had served Father and now served Mother well. He'd been redeemed of his Darkness driven actions as "The Flood". He had found his mate, his Beloved and untold joy in her and with her. He had adopted a beautiful child who required family. He had been gifted the joy to father children. He had Raphael as a sibling and unwavering friend. Uriel was safe, though secluded. Father and Mother had said she was being brought back to health. He was glad of that. She was dearest family as well…and …he had Gabriel, his twin.

Michael's depleted physicality took him away from the garden and further from his conscious world. He fell as if from a great height. He tumbled deeply into his mind's recesses but carried on within to his train of thought, though now the play of them was as visuals of what he'd experienced . The events flipped like storyboard cards.

He replayed the events of his and Gabriel's time in the place between the place between places. He recalled his Darkness designed activity while there. He recalled why they had to go there to begin with. The Darkness. He replayed the horror of how he and Gabriel had been attacked by Alex. He'd had to take Gabriel and himself to his secret hide-a-way in the place between the place between places behind a Legacy lock to escape…to recover.

He remembered he'd forgiven Alex the brutal Darkness driven attack on him and Gabriel which nearly killed them both, almost as it happened . It had been easy to forgive him. It wasn't done by Alex's choice. It was The Darkness. Alex wasn't alone, no…Noma was there also. He had forgiven Noma's betrayal just as quickly. She had acted out of being deceived because of Darkness infection by Lucifer's hand.

Even Noma and Alex's child had suffered by Darkness. He replayed memories of Alexa Jilli-an had given him through the years, losing pet after pet to the unrealized shriveling , consuming intensity harbored within her. Michael felt it was what he was and his inability to hold it secure that caused all of that and more. It seemed he could forgive everyone anything because their failings were not their own, but his. His hand, his Darkness was in all of their failings…even Lucifer's insanity was partly his Darkness at work. He was to blame. He was responsible.

Father and Mother contained Darkness but they controlled their Darkness. He was a threat. He did not have their force of being. He was a loose cannon packed to the brim with explosive Darkness. As Archangel, it was his failing to hold the Amphora containing Darkness secure after the Extermination War that brought these tragedies. He rightly bore the guilt for every one harmed by it since then.

He had been shown what he was…by Mother or…no by some facet of his mind. Mother was not here. His Darkness was part of Father, yes. He was infused by accident with part of the essence of the Almighties… and the fact was… that he couldn't handle it! And further, what he was told was that he was not made outright. He was a retread …created then…no…no! Michael closed his eyes in revulsion. It was a fact. He was an abomination! A product of re-creation! No, The Darkness had not given him a gift.

It showed him proof that he was inadequate to house godliness and it would destroy him and everyone and everything because he was a failure, a freak of nature that should have died at his formation but for pity. He should have been asking, "Why?" Why, indeed!

Mother and Father were gone now because he couldn't manage his… God error. Oh! The hell of all horrors beset him. He, Michael, was a h'ors 'a min! He was a living free roaming God error. One his Father loved and could not destroy. He was more a terrible affliction to creation than Lucifer ever was. That's what his mind had shown…what The Darkness had shown him!

He deserved this pain now. He had caused so much of it to others. How could he ever forgive himself for so much destruction? He. Was. Responsible. In the worst way. He should not exist. Michael thought his mind and his body would implode from the anguish it harbored. He put the bloody heel of his hand to his forehead to hold himself together.

An angry angel of the Second Sphere approached Michael as he lay in the hellish torrent of his mind's rushing, raging affliction. His mentality was as ravaged as his body. He was on the verge of breaking to an insanity of torment driven by his own Darkness. He … _ **hated**_ it. He hated The Darkness. He _**hated**_ _**himself**_. He should be destroyed.

Michael didn't hear the armor as the angel sheathed his wings. Just as he turned to face him, by act of an attempt to shake the brutality of his own thoughts, the angry member of the Powers struck a powerful blow to the side of Michael's head with the hilt of his sword. With that, Michael was thrown onto his side as he fell unconscious.

New blood trickled from the Archangel's head wound as his beleaguered but determined mind released from the edge of madness and returned him to a safe place… to Jillian. His mind gave him to replay more of his decisive conversation with her. She was still challenging his reasons for doing this he was here to do and his choice to act as cure to Gabriel.

xxxx

"We can play at semantics if you prefer. If not guilt, then responsibility is the word, so be it. You are not responsible for this Beloved. It is a tragedy beyond words that this plague has befallen Gabriel, but it is his path. I can end it, well and thoroughly. " Said Jillian.

"As can I! I have been given the way around it; imbued with the key to his freedom from it by our Father and Mother. That has to have meaning. It gives purpose to the gift to meet this challenge. If we are not to fulfill our purpose, then what are we for?" Michael asked.

"We are also given choice and minds to weigh and sort the wisdom of our actions. The sacrifice is too great! Who has ever sacrificed so much for you?" Jillian demanded.

"Gabriel has! He sacrificed himself to torture by Lyrae… this Darkness affliction and possible death… for me, so that I might save Alex; so that Alex could save humanity. This…all of this… is just an extension of that sacrifice. Jilli-an, I respect your point of view, but I will undo what has been done to Gabriel because that is right and just and so it is my duty and it is what is honorable… and what love does for family."

"Yes, Michael. " Jillian paused, so proud of her mate at this discovery. "You are right. _**That**_ is the heart of you. _**That**_ is what is at your core. Love and Light. Whatever this Darkness is only serves that Light, to give it strength. This I know from my own soul and I would have you know that Beloved. I have told you before, but now you _**MUST**_ know this about yourself or fail in all hope of saving your brother. _**You**_ are the good that lights the way out of all Darkness."

Michael looked at her, amazed with her way of helping him, even in the most difficult of circumstances…even by her opposition, she did nothing but make him stronger. If he met this challenge with guilt as his partner, he would dishonor the sacrifice of love and the guilt would cause the cure to fail. The sacrifice had to be for love. Jillian had just made certain it was- in her mind- and he believed, at the time, in his own heart.

He felt his love for her could grow wings and soar of its own, the power of it was so palpable. He held her in his highest regard and esteem. He took her in his arms then and said to her, "Jilli-an, you are my mate, my equal, my beacon in the dark. _**You**_ are the only light I see." He stroked her cheek as he had said that. Now he had to ask even more of her. He lowered his head to begin his request.

"If I fail to impart the purified blood of sacrifice onto Gabriel as cure for The Darkness," he held her gaze now with the importance of his asking, " you must find a way to do this." Jillian was devastated.

"Michael, please, no! _**I**_ must _**save**_ the cause of this loss of you?" Michael nodded slowly. He knew what he asked of her. He had asked Jillian to be his second. She was to see that his blood of sacrifice met Gabriel's bare skin as cure if he failed to make it so. He did not know if his death by Gabriel's hand would cause him adequate bloodshed to be effective in the end or if Gabriel would follow through with the tradition of anointing with the blood of a slain enemy.

The custom of a warrior angel's code dictated his mate, if considered an equal, had to fulfill his duty. He took a breath to steel himself to continue explaining to her. He swallowed hard. "It is your duty and honor to act in such a way." Jillian huffed and pulled away from him in exasperation of his holding her to a warrior's duty and honor when, as his mate, she felt her duty was to his preservation and welfare.

She turned to walk away from him, but Michael continued insistently and held her to him as he spoke, holding both her hands in his. "But this is more than that, Jilli-an. If I fail to save Gabriel, yes, I fail to save all of creation. A great duty, truly."

Now Michael couldn't face Jillian and he turned away from her to say over his shoulder, "But what raises fear and dread in my heart is that I would fail to save family - my brother, you and my children." He wheeled about to face her now. He held her cradling her face in both hands, peering deeply into her eyes, " What I ask is that you save all that means life to me."

With that profound asking, she would suffer the showing of mercy to the bringer of Michael's death. By his love for her and her love for Michael, by their bond and her high standing as First of Fathers Unbound Children and as an equal to her mate, she was charged with the duty of saving Gabriel. Their love demanded much, but for Michael, she would do anything.

She placed her hand on the face she loved more than life, "Yes, Beloved. Ease the dread of your heart. I will stand as your second and show mercy to one for the sake of the other. I swear it by our love." Michael looked on his beloved with more admiration than he ever felt for any warrior, any angel, anyone. She was magnificent.

xxxx

Michael awoke to his inevitable delirium. He could hear Jillian's words echo again, "You are the good that lights the way out of all Darkness." Her form wavered before him as a mirage. He considered what she was saying even as he grimaced from his physical discomfort.

He had forgiven every transgression save what he perceived as his own. Not only had his own actions helped walk his loved ones out of their dark times, as he should, but he had offered them forgiveness. You forgave those you loved. He may have been part of their wrongs, but he was also part of their salvation. He had been party to their way out of the darkness each of them wrought.

Jillian's form miraged before his muddled senses again, "…You are the good…know that about yourself, Beloved." Jillian had told him. She began to fade from sight. He reached out to her wanting to call to her aloud as he foundered on the boundary of the conscious and the unconscious. But she was gone to soon. He dropped his reaching arm in despair. Then he contemplated his own words. As they fell into his disoriented play of thoughts, they addressed themselves to the return of the mirage of Jillian, "It gives purpose to the gift to meet this challenge."

Then he heard the message secreted in bits of their exchange. His mind, prepared by his mental works, now allowed him to piece the puzzle of a message together from his own words, "… I have been …imbued with the key to … freedom ." Those words resounded in his mind as though he were hearing them under water.

He was swimming under the sea in the place between the place between places…free… "swim free…don't think…swim beneath the beautiful sea"…his Darkness whispered to him trying to corrupt his message. No…he was not swimming…he was here; in a canyon, on a bed of horrors. He was required by duty to be here for family.

He fought himself to focus. He was the key. He must be his own key. He knew his own forgiveness was his to give…he alone was imbued with the key to that freedom. Could he do it? He issued forth a deep sighing moan of exhausted effort and agony. The Darkness of his mind and the savagery of Gabriel's application of Darkness was stealing him away. He was so very tired. He hurt so very much. No! He would not surrender. He forced himself to concentrate. He must work this through.

If he was the 'Light' out of the grip of his own 'Darkness' for others, it was a thing only he could grant himself. He understood his own forgiveness had to be. His forgiveness of himself was part of the way out of the Darkness for Gabriel, everything and everyone. From above him he heard his Father's voice rumble forward from lectures past, "Michael."

"Father!" Michael breathed, hopefully straining to see his Father's face. He tried to rise, but the torn flesh of the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet could not bear his weight. He lay in torment as his Father's words rang in his mind, "Michael, you must love yourself as you love your brother, as your brother loves you. Love enough to forgive. Love is the greatest sword you will ever hold, my son."

He had to love himself, as he loved his brother to be free of guilt, to win this battle. But he had never felt worthy of the love of others, much less to have the arrogance to love himself. He _**needed**_ his guilt. To stay humble, he needed it… needed it to remind him to be humble to control his fury. He struggled with the idea. Something didn't fit. He heard Jillian's pledge to him rise up in his thoughts, "I swear it by our love."

If he was worthy of her love, if their love together was so strong as to be the foundation of an oath, it was a power of great importance. If he was worthy of that, might he be worthy of love? If he held the love of his Parents to so caringly and patiently teach him, if he was worthy of the love of his brother to have sacrificed himself for his benefit, then he _**was**_ worthy of love… possibly including his own.

No. He was not worthy. But was love only about that. Being worthy? It earned worth out of respect, yes. These he loved, he respected but he loved them not because they were worthy, but because they loved so well. He loved them…for the sake of love. Where did the guilt he held fit? What purpose did it serve?

"You need guilt…to stay humble," his own voice taunted him with the idea. Of, course, he remembered. Yes, he needed guilt to remind him he was imperfect, at fault for wrongs to many to count. He was weak and fallible and shameful. He needed guilt to keep him humble. But his higher consciousness challenged himself. Did it keep him humble? Was it humble to feel guilt? Did guilt offer strength?

Why did Father say Love was the greatest sword he would ever hold? He could bring anyone to their knees with his blades! Not about blades…this is a spiritual battle. Focus. Focus. Where was he? Humble….on his knees…wasn't it the sword of guilt that brought him to his knees now? It did, yes. Out of the strength it sapped, though, not the strength it gave. Other things gave strength.

But for all things of strength and beauty and greatness and good…what was it that brought him to his knees for those reasons? Not guilt… It was out of… humility before them. Humility was a kind of… strength… born of respect and honor of another. It allowed one to serve without being servile. It was why he bowed to Mankind's service and to serve Alex.

Did he not bow before Father …and in his heart, in the presence of Jilli-an? Was their honor paid out of guilt or being servile? Was his service or love paid out of guilt? No! He didn't need guilt for humility. Love was the power of humility. Love was the source of true humility. Love was at the root of his duty and great service.

Love for Father and his gifts was why he strove to perfect them; why he struggled to become more than he was. He knelt before Father from a place of power. Father never wished one to kneel from brokenness. Guilt was weak. Guilt was brokenness, not a humility. It was never guilt that he needed. That was…Darkness. Guilt was a dark matter. Guilt was born of self-hate. He did not wish to serve or to be servile to Darkness. His guilt made that of him. But its influences were part of him. He must master it.

He heard Jillian speak to him again in the echoes of his mind…"Beloved…" She ghosted before him looming large with the importance of her presence as he heard her words, "…show mercy to one for the sake of the other." A blinding light fired in his mind as this ignited him to a great knowledge. He felt himself walking in the Great Library of Heaven in the Silver City. His mind saw enormous doors materialize from where they had been concealed in a wall of Heaven's library. The secret, hidden doors of knowledge opened to him.

From their finally loosed ancient seal the exquisite twin Sirens of Knowing lofted forth out of the Darkness bearing the secret which they'd held captive from Michael. The secret his Darkness had held apart from him. As the Sirens breeched the opened doors into the Light, they surrounded Michael sighing into his ear…"Mercy for the Bringer of Salvation; Love is the Sword of Heaven."

"Mercy for Salvation", "Love for Salvation" breathed the Sirens, flowing in graceful splendor to impart their most coveted wisdom. They whispered "You are Salvation; you are the Sword. You are a twin blade" as they lifted the veil of unknowing from Michael's eyes.

Jillian's words, her love, had left him the code to unlock the knowledge he had deprived himself…the key to free himself! He was the Sword of Heaven. He was the Advent of Salvation - to Gabriel, to everyone, to himself. To be that in full, he would have to 'Show mercy to one for the sake of the other'. Mercy…for Salvation. He had to lay Fury aside for this struggle. His Sword of Power in this epic battle was… Love. He had his weapons in this cause, his twin blades: Mercy and Love. He engaged the battle fully armed.

Gabriel's love had saved him on their Making Day. Father's love had given him life and life again. Not re-creation but extraordinary creation… for love, not pity. Jillian's love sustained him and guided him… gave him this path. She had always told him "I love all that you are and all that you will become." She knew he held Darkness and loved all of him.

Darkness was part of him, but not the whole . It was part of his Parents whom he held as Love Most High. He loved them all… and all of them. Now, he must love the dark and light…all of another. In that moment, Michael gave himself the greatest gift. The gift only he could give… love of self. It opened him to the mercy of self- forgiveness for the sake of his brother…and all there was.

Michael breathed deeply the first truly guilt free breath of his existence. He felt the power of it give him strength. His self-hatred and the resultant guilt was purged from every part of himself. He had finally defeated his own Darkness; to love even that of himself.

He did this he endured for only the purest reasons. Not for relief from the self-inflicted emotion of a blaming disgrace. Not for guilt. He knew it without a doubt. He was Master of himself now. He would act to save Gabriel and undo The Darkness out of purest love alone. He was now, in every way, what Father intended - the great Sword of Heaven -fired by Fury, driven by Love, fueled with Mercy, Pure of heart, filled with Grace, charged by the Power of his God.

The mighty Archangel's body ignited in a victory of the complete extraordinary he had become. Unseen by any but the most lowly of creatures, Michael haloed in the presence of his Grace, Power, Purity, Mercy and Love. He was become Salvation for the many and the one. For love of his brother, he was become The Cure.


	24. Chapter 23 Mercy for Salvation Part II

Salvation

Chapter 23 Mercy for Salvation Part II

Duty, Honor, Family

With his new found freedom from guilt, Michael gave thanks for the many gifts he was given which allowed him to find his way to this state of purity. The attainment came at great cost, but the greatest achievements always did. The ordeal was not over. He knew he must yet deliver the cure. What he needed, what he wanted now was rest. The spiritual battle had taken a toll. How could he find rest for his mind and body here? He had the thought that perhaps there could be none.

Never- the- less, gratitude was the least he could express. He whispered to the night, "As I am your creation, Father, Mother, know, wherever you are, that I am always in awe of your workings in me, through me, which gift me to become more than I am and more as you would have me." As he thought of greatest gifts, Michael's heart brought him again to thoughts of his greatest joy, of Jillian. But he was not alone in his thoughts.

Fortunately, the Angel of Mercy had won her battle as well. She found her strength and saw her duty. A potentially worthy one lay in a bloody heap. He was certainly worthy of a small offering. Just as Michael had thought there was no rest for him, Mihr was there in his mind. She had told him that for him, she was Mercy, sent by one who loved him.

"Our time together is short. _**He**_ will know. Choose a face and embrace me while you may, Michael." She took him into deep unconsciousness and with her gift of illusion, freed him of pain and gave him the rest he desperately needed. She allowed his thoughts to wander where he wished, then enhanced the experience to the point of realism. Michael wished to be in his and Jillian's last intimate night together…

xxxx

…Michael had taken Jillian to a place he loved - to their home near Helena to celebrate their being reunited as themselves in their own time…and to say their farewells. Gabriel had razed the beautiful residence and the lands around it. All of the people who'd lived there and angels, Gabriel had tortured and murdered in his raging fury to find Michael. All that remained here was part of the barn and one cottage in shambles. Michael had taken the bed from the cottage and made a cozy spot for them in the barn.

The animals had dispersed to the wild. The devastation upset Michael deeply. He tried to stay focused on their togetherness but he could not. He rose from their bed and stood in rapt concentration, lost in the fog of his responsibilities, staring out of the wooden barn's only intact window. The moonlight softened the tension showing in his face and washed over his nakedness making of him an alabaster perfection.

Jillian sat up to take in the beauty of his form and to hold sway over his troubled thought when the time was right. Michael stood with his arm extended and his hand held onto the uppermost frame of the shutterless opening as if he were Atlas propping up the world. He gazed out over the barren land that had once been so rich and fruitful.

The sky was beautiful. The way its deep, dark velvet blanketed the silhouette of the distant mountains was…beautiful… but he could not see the beauty through his thoughts. They drove him to say, "This destruction must not abide, I will go to Gabriel now, without delay." Jillian rose to stop him. Her tenderness and her exquisite glisten in the moonlight as it bathed her in its ivory hue, held him captive.

She took his hand in hers and held it to her cheek saying, "No, Beloved." She cupped her hand over his so his was beneath then drew him to her heart with both of her hands. We must plan carefully and I would have you with me for a moment, to say hello from across time and forever more."

Michael needed her as much as she needed him. She gave him strength. She gave him peace in his turmoil. She was purpose when madness robbed that to senselessness. Her wish to make their hello last forever…no goodbyes… was just the balm his torn soul and troubled mind needed to steel himself in his duty… and free him to his passion for her. He swept her up into his arms and settled them onto the bed, smothering her in kisses born of his fire.

They loved with a hunger and passion that defied description. They poured their undying devotion into one another until their bodies shattered. First their physical one; then their celestial one. They loved until they were not as humanity or angel kind but as only their love, as only Michael could make them. They became creation together. They became the whole of time and space and in their moments together, shared lifetimes, one's they remembered sharing and new ones they made for Jillian to hold in his absence.

Michael's god matrix had evolved to allow him to give her that gift. Her lessons learned in their bound lives would help her exist without him and beyond the pain of his absence. He knew that. It was a comfort. Jillian knew this also.

She was grateful to her Father and Mother for giving her that reinforcement, as losing him again without those lessons would have destroyed her, truly. She would not have been able to let him go to this…his duty. They had made her able to face it…to help Michael face this. Michael lay with his Beloved nestled in the strength of his loving embrace…and he in hers. They lay together, both cradled in love eternal.

xxxx

The Angel of Mercy had brought him this and more. While he'd lain in the serenity of Mihr's gift, she had protected him from more than pain. A gang of angry, angels who had lost comrades, in his ferocious bid to enter Gabriel's aerie had wandered toward him with ill intent . The angel gang wished to humiliate him and assert their dominance.

They intended to further defile his body. They wanted to rape the unconscious archangel in retaliation for the shame he levied on them in their defeat and great losses to him…and just because they hated him and felt it was their duty to "Take him down a notch" from , as they perceived it, "his unbearable sense of superiority". They roughly rolled him onto his belly. One of them used his knife to cut away the thin flap of remaining cloth.

They laughed and yelled down at Michael as they prepared to abuse him, " Fuck the peacock!" Suddenly, someone approached and broke their focus. It had been Mihr. She made herself appear to be formidable and moving with intent on Michael. The gang gave way to the superior one approaching and instead of their rape of Michael, they kicked at him several times and stomped him. Cursing him, they moved on, feigning satisfaction that they had given him due shame in kind, leaving him face down in his mangled wing matter and stolen blood. Mihr had then moved back into the shadows.

Another angel who had seen the abusive band of angels, seized on their idea. She wished to abuse Michael. She had cause. She thought to beat him or maybe stab him with her blade as he lay there. She approached him unbeknownst to Mihr. She kicked him hard to begin to brutalize him. She kicked him again in his already broken ribs and the force of her kick rolled him face up. Michael's dream gift from Mihr still held him in ecstasy with Jillian.

Despite the trouser remnant loin cloth remaining, his unconscious body could be seen to read of his more-than-dream involvement, and noticing his body was ready, this new angel abuser changed her tack. She acted just as Mihr was discovered by the High Guard and was distracted from her vigilant watchfulness. Mihr had to address the High Guard who had become suspicious of her. While she did, the angry angel planned to take what she believed Michael would never have given to exact her vengeance on him as he lay bloodied upon the bed of his severed feathers, unconscious.

The assaulting angel's own love had been killed by Michael in the battle to enter the aerie. The couple had waited until their mating ceremony to share their bodies. It was rare and sacred act of devotion between angels. Their opportunity to be one as a mated pair was never realized. She was consumed with venom of hate, anger, emotional hurt of loss. The lingering violence from the frenzy of their tribunal assault on Michael still coursed through her. It was a kind of madness of its own that drove the participating angels to base and despicable atrocities.

So, she had taken her design into practice. She moved to take advantage of Michael while he lay in peace and love with Jillian in his mind. She had him in hand. Mihr had to move away from where she had secluded herself in Gabriel's garden. The High Guard who had interrupted her now forced her to leave. With distance, her gift departed Michael. He was beginning to waken from Mihr's gifted experience…realizing it had not been reality this time. Still, he was grateful for the reprieve.

But once more, there was no breath nor interval between that was not pain filled. His mental pain blocks along with the brief relief and his new resolve gave him strength to bear it. He was beyond caring who committed atrocious deeds upon him now nor did he care how he was abused. His path was set, his duty laid out and he was ready to meet that out of love.

Michael resurfaced uttering the sounds of evidence his sense of pain was restored just as the angry female abuser had begun to settle herself to him. His consciousness startled her. Her touch was nothing but the fire of pain as she released him then pushed away pressing hand to his mangled thigh. She brushed against the torn skin of his calf, even as she stepped away.

Seeing his eyes were open, she stood defiantly and yelled at him her cause, "You took my love from me…killed him as I watched the day before we were to be joined. I mean to take from you what you took from us." She spat in the face of the battered, offending Archangel. Michael only closed his eyes as the salvia of disdain struck. He understood her loss and the futility of her revenge to quell it. As she approached him again to resume her assault, Michael spoke.

"Would this act of taking be enough to ease the pain of your heart?" Michael sincerely asked of the disheveled, grieving, and angry angel. If she said yes, he would resign himself to her punishment. "No." she said so quickly, even she now knew the truth of it. "But it would have been…"

"What?" Asked Michael, gently. "Justice. Some kind of justice." She gritted her teeth as she said the last justice.

"You were one the tribunal elected to participate in their retribution. Was that taking not enough, then? Taking of flesh and the taking of wings?"

"It should have been, you'd think? But it seems, nothing fills the void." She tapped at her chest where its tightness manifested her inner anguish of loss. " I will know this pain a great long while." She said as she sighed knowingly. She had just arrived at a truth.

Michael hoped he might help her further, "For what it is worth, I am sorry for your loss. We have all lost too much seeking a way to turn back this tide." Michael said this to her with all of the empathy he could gather in the current state of his own losses. Her brow furrowed with emotion as she nodded acceptance of his apology and acknowledgement of loss.

Michael groaned lightly and leaned into his chest slightly. The Welrupt within him drew its nourishment, depleting him and releasing toxins, causing him more excruciating pain by the hour. He lay back resolved to accept the tearing, drawing pain, as any movement only caused him additional discomfort. He breathed heavily. Breathing hurt, as his broken ribs rubbed against one another and some were like sharp knives. He tried not to breathe that way. Shallower, quicker breaths were easier.

As that most recent Welrupt feeding ended, he could again hear the anguish of his former tormentor continue. She was telling him…something. He began to hear her as she said in a whispered yell, "You speak of a way to turn this tide. It's because of you that Gabriel is shredding the world and I want it over! Don't you care!?"

"Yes, I care." Michael answered softly, intently looking into her asking eyes. Speaking was difficult. He was so very thirsty. He was unable to conceal his own physical pain. It read in his eyes but she couldn't see it past her own emotional pain. "Then why have you kept all of creation waiting?" She accused. She screamed at a whisper what her whole being wanted, but she was afraid for any to hear save Michael, "Stop this madness! Stop Gabriel's brutality on the whole of the Universe!" She said pleadingly, as she wept her hidden horror and visible grief.

She knelt beside him and leaned in closely. The salt of her shedding tears burned him where they fell. She noticed and wiped her face to stop the droplets. Then she pled in a low whisper to the only one of them who might ever best "The Monster". "If you would defeat Gabriel, kill him in battle, it would save us all. Save us, Michael! Please, Archangel." She wanted him to do that.

He knew what she thought would help ; he knew what would actually save them. He couldn't tell her. He knew this duty would end shortly in Gabriel's return to normalcy, returning safety to what was left of creation by his blood cure and so he assured the angel he would indeed help. He answered her with one word, "Soon."

She caught her breath in sudden realization as she nodded her understanding. Now she realized her mistake in assessing the situation…and him. It was not a great battle that would save, but a great sacrifice. She knew his life was forfeit to end the part of the madness he could. She had inflicted her rage on the wrong archangel. They all had.

Michael had killed her love, but Gabriel was the reason he was killed. She reached to touch Michael's shoulder in a moment of compassionate understanding and by way of transmitting her apology for her behavior. Michael recoiled at the prospect of touch.

She realized it would only cause him additional hurt to be touched anywhere but the less marred side of his face. She then withdrew to that place and touched his cheek with her finger tips, lovingly, as she would have her love, as the farewell she was deprived to him; as the gratitude Michael's great sacrifice deserved.

In that moment of compassion, she left her anger, her own loss and finding her heart free , she gave forgiveness to one who was worthy, to Michael. She turned and left Michael to his duty, to his fate, to find her own, but that is not what Michael saw. The sight of her going split to one of her having stayed.

She- who- stayed, reached for a flask she had, opened it and moistened a cloth she held. She wiped the blood and perspiration from Michael's face. She moistened his lips with the drenched cloth. The water left blood free trails along his neck and chest where it trickled in cooling, soothing rivulets.

She could see some healing had begun among and between the deepest scoring of his body. She noticed, too, that he craved the water the cloth bore. She brought the flask to his mouth and gave him a few sips of its contents. Michael's thirst was as much a torment as any other inflicted upon him. He struggled to take more of the precious liquid even as she took it from his reach.

She did so not out of cruelty, though it felt as such to Michael in his deprived need for hydration. He fell back from his seeking, struggling with his need and the enforced prevention of relief from thirst. Michael wanted to take his fill but it would not have served him. More drink would have made him ill. But this angel was not there only to bring good intention. The angel, having stood, turned from him and then gave Michael this temptation in words spoken over her shoulder. "Let me take you from here."

Michael swept his head about to view the angel intently, breathlessly to see if she meant her offer. He could see she did mean it as she had turned to face him and he could read the reality in her eyes. She would take him away from here. How he wanted to go; to leave here and go to Jillian and his sons… to live in peace! He was so exhausted and depleted. He craved the water he would be free to drink, he craved relief of time to heal and the release to free his body of the beastly parasite that consumed and poisoned him.

This new mercy was not mercy at all but a trial. It was a test meant to create more turmoil, to see, if he could not be defeated by pain, abuse or guilt, thus far, then perhaps he could be conquered by despair. Perhaps he would break by thought of what he could escape to and the idea that he could avoid any further exposure to this horror. It would be the ultimate shame if he left now. He would never recover from it. He would never regain honor. Would he flee his duty? How deep was his resolve? How deep did his love for family go?

Gabriel had seen the brokenhearted angel and sought to use her to further torment Michael. He had summoned a look alike of the brokenhearted angel to play with Michael's mind. This newest inner battle was on Michael's face. Gabriel smiled to know it, to think in a moment, when Michael said yes to the angel temptress, he would then take all hope of freedom from this plight and all possibility of any glory in his sacrifice away from his brother, but Michael answered quickly, foiling Gabriel's plot and his pleasure. Ending the trial, Michael said, "There is much to be served here. I will stay."

Michael haloed lightly with his answer. Even the angel of temptation was shocked at his resolve. She regarded him in amazed realization as she glimpsed the evidence of perfection subside. She knelt, bowed her head to him and whispered, "This is well done by you, Archangel. All creation will know of your strength and of what you do as mercy for salvation of all, Most Worthy One."

Before she stood to leave Michael, she touched his hand. All of the pain drained from him and all of his strength returned. His altered state was apparent by the tension that left his body and his sigh of relief. It was not an illusion, not a dream. It was the honor of the full measure of the gift of Mercy, the grace of an empathic block.

Mihr had perpetrated a deception on Gabriel. She used his need for a look alike to make herself appear to be that and openly gained access to Michael, physically. It was a way she could find out the true depth of the archangel on trial and the true purpose of Michael here. It was a way to help Michael further if he had earned it.

She was able to give him water and this complete relief, this further rest in the eye of the storm because he had indeed earned it. Any doubt she had left when she witnessed his halo, the evidence of perfection and his worthiness. Her Mercy was meant to give reprieve until the release of death or the act of healing. It would be sustained as long as she was near to the worthy one. For this one, she would stand vigil at all costs.

She had to issue the trial Gabriel had sent her in to inflict; it served his purpose and hers. Gabriel's purpose had failed while the success of hers had brought her gift to Michael. Now Gabriel saw through her ruse. He rushed into the area accompanied by High Guard. "Remove the gift, Angel of Mercy! NOW! Or I'll end you where you stand!" He screamed, shaking with fury and the strain to control his Darkness driven desire to kill, as his sword was laid to Mihr's throat. "Never." Insisted Mihr.

Then Mihr attempted to split her gifts and engage Gabriel mentally in an act of Retribution. She was trying to give Michael's pain to Gabriel, but Gabriel blocked her and pressed her mind with an attempt at ruthless possession to end her gift and to torment her. Mihr gasped , then screamed from the horror of the experience of Gabriel's Darkness entering her mind and the strain to hold Michael's relief in the face of Gabriel's attack.

Michael had raised himself up to stand and seeing Gabriel's attack on Mihr continue, he projected a shield around her to protect Mihr from Gabriel's assault. The red glow about her person was evidence of its effect. Gabriel wheeled about to confront his brother, "You said you would not resist!" Gabriel lifted Michael by his throat, as there was no other way to secure him, and slammed him against a nearby wall behind him, hoping to break his protection of Mihr.

Seeing it had not worked, Gabriel released his hold enough so Michael could speak, "I have not resisted, Gabriel. You have broken the covenant to which you agreed. No one else was to be hurt if I surrendered. Allow Mihr passage away from here."

"Michael, no!" Mihr warned sternly. She couldn't let on she needed to be close to him to hold his gift. With Michael's shield about her, she couldn't mentally warn him either. She couldn't tell him that bestowing her gift had lowered his own mental blocks to pain. It was necessary to do so to impart her gift in place of them. Her gift was meant to give complete ease without any effort of the worthy one.

Gabriel smiled resentfully but indicated to his angels to let Mihr pass. It offended Gabriel to hear the strength of Michael's voice returned and that even now his brother could make him have to change his course of action. Gabriel half threw; half dropped Michael, who fell to his knees from his brother's force. "You will regret this, I promise you, Michael." Gabriel threatened.

Mihr reluctantly walked away. She moved off as slowly as she could. As the distance between them grew, it was becoming quite difficult for Michael to hold the protective field around Mihr. As Mihr was escorted away from Michael, she was finally at such a distance that she could not hold her gift to him.

She was forced to disengage it. She had given him relief as long as she could. It had been her intention to remain disguised and keep Michael pain free until this was over, but Gabriel had been too smart for that. She regretted that Gabriel would be pleased very soon.

When her gift left him, Michael gasped. He cried out. He could not help dropping the shield around Mihr. The wash of his agony's return was intense. All of the walls he had built in his mind to control it had dropped when he became free of pain by Mihr's gift. Her gift's remnant resonance also kept him from restoring the mental blocks of his own.

Her full gift was meant to free the recipient of any pain or effort to block pain until death or healing. She was meant to remain in the recipient's presence to stand vigil as an honor to the worthy. Now Michael was unprotected and unable to protect himself.

The re-affliction was most severe, as it occurred just as the Welrupt again fed from his heart. Michael held his chest cradled in his arms to support his pained ribs and strained heart as he coughed strongly. Blood from his ravaged insides expressed from his mouth. He collapsed to the flat of his back, once again gripped in an overwhelming physical assault.

Gabriel smiled then laughed loudly with pleasure at Michael's distressed condition. Then he ordered his men to seize the unprotected Mihr who had begun to run, not away, but toward Michael to aid him, to reassert her gift of Mercy. She was not permitted to get close enough.

As she was dragged away, Mihr wept to see Michael's suffering. She was still pleading with Gabriel to allow her to help Michael as she was hauled from sight to the aerie's dungeons by two Higher Angels. Gabriel barked orders to his High Guard, "Follow them to the dungeons and kill Mihr…slowly!" For the comfort of the bit of water and respite from pain she had given his brother and for her mental assault on his person, as well as her traitorous deception…she would pay dearly.

Before the Higher Angels could inflict their torture on Mihr, she was extracted by a dimensional jump made with dimensional legacy barricades to prevent Gabriel or anyone else from following. Michael had shown Raphael the technique so he could protect his family in an emergency escape if all efforts failed to stop Gabriel's Darkness rampage.

Jillian had kept her promise to Mihr. She had asked Raphael to go to her. Mihr was protected, not during, but after her gift. Raphael had, by Mihr's request, taken her to Jillian. Jillian had been seated in meditation. When Raphael and Mihr appeared, she rose to meet the Angel of Mercy. Since her directions to Raphael had been to take Mihr where ever she wished, she knew it was by Mihr's request they were present.

Mihr was very shaken, her cheeks were tear streaked. She composed herself as she approached the mate of Michael. She bowed her head and offered a wing salute. Jillian, accepted the honor with a humble nod. She knew it was not by her doing that the salute was earned. She waited for Mihr to speak holding strong in the face of what could only be described as dread of the Angel of Mercy's report.

"First of the First Ones, Mate of Michael, I honor you as I have witnessed the truth of your quest to me. There is good and a power beyond knowing within Michael. I would be with him still but for the cunning and despicable Monster."

"I am grateful for your willing risk of self to serve. It will not be forgotten." Jillian said as thanks to Mihr.

Mihr gave wing salute once again, but did not depart. She paused, "I wish you to know that I honor Michael and I will see to it that honor is paid. Mihr stepped forward and placed her hand on Jillian's shoulder and then dimensionally jumped . Jillian crumpled to her knees, Raphael shimmered to male and ran to her side. Jillian drew a ragged breath of stunned, utter despair and horror. She trembled with the breaking of her foundations of strength. "Jilli-an, what…," Raphael began to ask what was wrong just as Jillian could speak it. " I …saw…as she last saw him… suffering so greatly…

"No! Jilli-an…" Raphael held her as comfort and to prevent her from falling to be prone on the floor. She could not weep for the pain she felt of Michael's, but Raphael wept for her pain. Because of the nature of her connection to Michael and the psychic nature of Mihr's gift, though Mihr did not know nor intend, by her contact with Jillian, she had imparted the sight of Michael's return of pain as she was dragged away to the dungeon.

Jillian saw his ravaged body covered in blood, Michael on his knees crying out as in untold agony he gripped his chest, coughing the blood of his internal injuries then collapsing to the ground. "Gabriel, Gabriel," Jillian repeated the name of the cause of her mate's anguish as a chant of focus. She ceased to tremble as she drew power to her. "Gabriel."

The furniture began to rise as her power drew even the gravity from her surroundings. Raphael suddenly had the thought, 'By all that's holy, she will smite Gabriel and everything and everyone between here and him!' He shook her focus, forcefully insisting, "First of the First, remember your pledge and honor the will of your Beloved."

The furniture fell the few inches back to ground. "I… will…honor…him." Jillian said as if re-enforcing herself to the pledge by power of her love alone. Then she sat on the floor, frozen to stillness, starring into nothing as one in a trance. She was stripped of her ability to use her great power- separated from her hearts purpose and drive - by her duty, her vow of honor, for love of her dearest family.

xxxx

Mihr had not returned to her quiet home, nor had she gone into hiding. She risked herself again because Michael was deserving of honor. And she was ashamed of her initial hesitation to do her duty out of fear and in belief of false evidence that Michael was at fault for the ravaged creation.

She risked capture by Gabriel's forces to appear in public over and over in dimensional jumps throughout creation where she told one, one told another and so word spread that Michael had given himself up to Gabriel in order to bring peace. She told them Gabriel was the one to be feared, the wrong doer, the one gone astray of Father's Will.

She spread that Michael's surrender this day was a glorious duty of sacrifice and he should be given honor to replace the disdain they'd all felt for his having been too long absent in facing his maddened brother. No one knew why or how he was so silent this past year. Now it didn't matter. He was lamb to the butcher, "The Monster", in their behalf and of his own free will.

Most who heard felt now that Gabriel had Michael, Gabriel's assault on creation would stop. The ones who heard and believed Mihr's message honored Michael for the sacrifice of himself for the benefit of all – but they did so secretly. Word reached Alex and Noma in their seclusion that Michael had gone to face Gabriel. They knew all too well that Michael's surrender would never work to stop Gabriel.

They knew that Gabriel was consumed with Darkness that would not abate on simple act of Michael's surrender or even upon his end alone. They hurried to stop Michael, to save him from as much pointless suffering as they could. They did not know, for their safety, the whole of the benefit of Michael's surrender. They went first to Jillian to discover Michael's whereabouts.

Michael closed his eyes in a futile concentrated effort to build a block to his pain. He coped as best he could as he lay on the stone ground outside the aerie where Gabriel had dropped him a few feet away from his severed wing feathers. Angels had begun approaching the feather mound to collect souvenirs.

Michael was surrounded by High Guard who stood in a circle giving wide berth around him and facing him to keep him from "attacking any passersby". He patiently awaited the next attempt of Gabriel's to exact his 'Darkness' fueled vengeance as angels filed in a steady stream into the great hall of the aerie.

The Welrupt was busy feeding again. Michael made another attempt but could not restore the mental blocks to help him manage the pain . Between his fruitless efforts to build pain barriers and the encroaching indicators of his body's incapacity, he was now too exhausted to do more than flinch lightly and moan softly during the Welrupt's feedings. He focused on breathing but even that was difficult and constricted by the boundaries of his brokenness.

He lay in an outline of his fresh blood. As the empyrean poison did not allow coagulation, he left the evidence of his waning life to ground. With him now on his side again to keep so much of his body from contact with the rough stone ground, where his breath met stone there was a small spray of blood. Even his respiration had begun to take on blood escaping him.

He coughed lightly as more blood rattled in his throat requiring departure from him. As Michael lay taking irregular, short breaths to claim some air through his difficulty, the dark red flow of loosed blood spilled slowly , thickly from the corner of his mouth onto the stone. The light spray of blood there grew to be a coin sized pool.

One High Guard thought Michael looked suspicious. " I can't see his other hand well enough. He could be up to drawing an escape sigil." The other High Guards went to alert directing the point of their swords to Michael as their compatriot walked up to Michael and kicked him over to the flat of his back. Michael flinched and softly expressed his discomfort as more of his empyrean steel poisoned torn flesh met the scraping stone. The High Guard was pleased with the results. They were certain everyone was safe from him now.

In the meantime, Gabriel, had recalled his own torture by the Dyad, Julian. His misguided mind distorted the fact he'd forced Michael to go from him then and he again believed his brother had abandoned him to the torment. His contemplation of Julian caused him to spit as expulsion of his recall of the refusal by his trusted lieutenant, the unpossessed, now winged man, Julian, the human half of that torturing Dyad, to follow his current rule.

Instead, Julian had become part of the underground resistance. With Gabriel's disgusted thoughts of the traitorous Julien set aside, the meanderings of his thoughts seeking the worst possible retribution on his brother found Gabriel inspired by recollection of the angel half of the Julian Dyad, Lyrae's, favorite pastime of ages passed. At Sodom, specifically. Michael had consigned Lyrae to the Outer Sphere for his practices in departure to Father's Will there.

Gabriel summoned Lyrae to him, drawing him down from his renewed prison in the Outer Sphere and re-embodied him. He allowed Lyrae this, "I give you dispensation from the Outer Sphere… if you draw an audible scream from my brother." Lyrae smiled and nodded, " I think that can be arranged."

"Michael should appreciate the irony of this," Gabriel said to Lyrae.

"I certainly do!" Said the despicable Lyrae. The two laughed with pleasure at their future plans for Michael.

They were ready to instigate Lyrae's design now. Lyrae would do the honors. Gabriel instructed several higher angels to gather Michael up from the ground outside. With High Guard surrounding as protectors, they flew Michael to lie him, face up, on the indoor marble alter Lyrae had prepared. Lyrae stood atop the alter in the aerie's great room. He reached over Michael's dazed person for a large hook which hung from the ceiling by a great chain.

He buried the tip of the horizontally elongated "C" shaped hook into Michael's abdomen to internally embrace as much of him as possible. Gabriel and Lyrae smiled at the pained and straining archangel's grimace. The onlookers in Gabriel's aerie cheered. Michael's discomfort was added to by the Welrupt scrambling out of the way of the invading metal. Lyrae said to the gasping archangel, "I'm going to enjoy this." Then Lyrae pulled the lever which elevated Michael six feet into the air over the alter.

By the hook at his middle, alone, he was suspended. Michael gasped and groaned with agony as he draped, hung, in a fashion, by his entrails. "How's that?" The quite mad Gabriel asked his twin. Having alighted on the alter, he now leaned near his brother's face. "Didn't I tell you you'd be sorry? Is that painful enough, you think?" Michael strained to answer "Is it enough for you, Brother?"

"Well, no." Said Gabriel matter-of-factly, still seeking the illusive scream.

"Then, perhaps… it can never be… enough." Michael whispered in his strained and roughened voice.

"Perhaps we just need to try harder." Gabriel responded, grinning. "Lyrae has given me just the thing." Lyrae smiled, elated to finally be unleashing his full retribution on Michael. He glowed with the confidence he would succeed in his goal. He would take care of his next goal - Gabriel - later…

Gabriel, eager to inflict more Darkness fueled misery on his brother, pulled a lever at the console panel at his side. An electrical charge of unprecedented power crackled and flashed surging down the chain through the empyrean steel hook and into Michael's body. He screamed.

There was no sound other than Michael's released agony. It seemed even the electricity diminished its crackling in reverence. His scream echoed though the stilled aerie and into the canyon beyond. It pierced the most hardened heart to stunned silence… but…Gabriel was awash in the pleasure the scream gave him. "Ahhh! At last!" He gave applause.

Lyrae joined him, pleased with his resounding success. The room gradually joined them, though some few now wept or drew hand to mouth to conceal their expression of horror. One or two covered their faces or turned away. This was no common fallen angel or human degenerate. This was The Archangel. Gabriel and Lyrae had gone too far. This was too much .

Gabriel watched with glee as Michael's muscles flexed to violent tension and some snapped as they were strained to the extreme. The surge of the voltage coursing through his unguarded and already ravaged insides was too much to bear. Michael fell mercifully unconscious.

Gabriel, not wishing to end his fun, and fearing Michael may die from the onslaught, hurriedly flipped the lever to 'off'. Michael's assaulted muscles released and he fell limp. Gabriel waited expectantly for Michael to revive. The breath had been taken from him by the experience and Michael drew raspingly to recover it as he resurfaced.

"There you are." Gabriel chuckled. "Shall we resume our 'visit'?" Michael's breath came in sharp, short gasps. Blood trickled from his eyes as tears. When he opened them, his eyes were blood streaked. Gabriel noticed they were changed, "Oh, I may have been too, zealous. As ever you were to my gifts… it appears you are quite blind, Michael."

"Not to what is important." Michael managed to say.

"What is important, Michael? I'm interested to know…what is at the seat of importance to you now? Where is your heart, Brother?" Gabriel asked tauntingly.

"Where it has always been." Michael said gently, his voice far more steady than Gabriel wanted it.

"Where would that be?" Gabriel prodded, becoming agitated.

Michael breathed the code of his life's service to his brother's annoyed anger. "Duty…honor…family."

"Family! You have NEVER cared for OUR family. You abandon your family, as you've abandoned me in every instance of my need. What do you care for family? All you ever cared about before Jilli-an was Alex." Gabriel 's rage boiled over recalling Michael's devotion to the last savior of humanity. Michael rallied to try to tell Gabriel what he should know, before he died.

"You seethe over Alex for what you do not know, Gabriel" Michael said patiently.

"What is that, brother?"

"You are an Uncle twice." Michael told his insane brother.

Gabriel reacted with fury and incredulity, "Nooo!" He shrieked ."You would never sire a Nephilim. Lies! I won't have it!" He struck a blow across Michael's face.

"…Fa…Father sanctioned." Michael explained, trying to recover from the blow.

"Alex is your son by Father's command?" Gabriel was still grappling with the idea because it was Father who had ordered Gabriel to prevent Alex from coming to his power. He was lost in confusion until Michael spoke again.

"You must foster them in my absence…my family." Michael asked this of the Gabriel this one would soon become by his imminent sacrifice.

Gabriel shook his head and pursed his lip in exasperated anger . He was suddenly furious with his confusion and with the realization he would exact no more screams from Michael. It enraged him beyond reason, "One scream!" He yelled, completely unhinged. "All of this and one scream is what I get! One scream and a plea for your 'FAMILY'S care! How dare, you ask it." How could Michael expect the favor of his care for despicable ones.

"Oh, I'll take care of them, to be sure." Gabriel promised with devious intent. Those he would find and kill, as well. "They will all scream for me, Michael! Know that…Brother!" He couldn't contain his frustration and anger. Gabriel fell to a frenzy of unbridled retribution on his brother. He was savage brutality. He pushed Lyrae out of his way and pulled the lever to electrocute Michael… again and again.

Michael did not scream. Not that he didn't want to, he couldn't. He couldn't catch breath enough. He did not die from this siege. He endured. The fact was, he had become so changed there was likely only one way for him to be ended. He was certain he had guided Gabriel to get to that soon. But there was more work he had to do before it was over. Something more he had to do for Gabriel; for love of his brother.

Michael's suffering was immeasurable but his brother's suffering was still more pitiable to him. To break Gabriel's focused insanity, Michael, seeking to save Gabriel from himself; to save him before The Darkness had completely taken his brother, not for concern to end his own suffering, managed take a breath before the third assault of unwelcomed power coursing through his person. He was able to whisper clearly through the contractions of his besieged body, softly, compassionately, "Gabriel, you must…let me go."

It worked to break his rabid attack. Yes, yes, he would free himself of Michael forever more. He would silence the heart that vexed him. He would end Michael. Shaking from his fury, Gabriel reached for his sword and flew into position to hold it over Michael's heart. Gabriel held his Empyrean steel at the ready. "I regret you cannot see your fate before you." Gabriel said , his words lashing out at his blinded brother.

"I… feel it well enough." Michael admitted without any anger or resentment.

"Poor consolation, I assure you." Gabriel said as he raised his sword .

Michael's thoughts as his death loomed drifted to his missing Parents. He knew the question may incite Gabriel to fury. He hoped it would drive him to finality. Michael feared his brother had murdered his Parents. To find out, he asked, "Brother, will I see our Fath…"

Gabriel thrust the sword's blade fueled by added annoyance at Michael's sentimental attempt at a query about their imprisoned Makers. Michael's breath was forced from him by the blow but his exhalation approximated a finish to the word "...ah!"

Gabriel flatly responded, "No, Brother, you won't." Michael was relieved Father wasn't dead. If Father and Mother lived, it meant there was hope for creation.

Gabriel turned to the nearby attending angel, "The Cup," he requested. The fully armored angel of the Second Sphere snapped to and handed the elegant, elongated basin like pedestaled cup of gold to Gabriel. Gabriel began to collect the blood of his brother as it flowed from his wound along his chest and down his ribs to fall away from him.

Michael found breath to speak, "You…will anoint?" He asked, concealing his hope that his lost and volatile brother would hold to the practice. Gabriel watched the blood spill from his brother, "Yes," he said with no emotion. Michael felt glad to know Jillian would be spared any further action. She would not have to see to his blood reaching Gabriel.

In traditional anointing by the blood of a fallen enemy, Gabriel would touch the blood of Michael's death to forehead…to his bare skin. He would, by this, receive the blood of his sacrifice of love. Gabriel would be cured of The Darkness. Michael felt a sense of accomplishment, of fulfillment of duty and service to family, that all of this would not be for nothing. He had not failed. He was not 'The Destroyer' by Darkness, but salvation, once more and forever. A slight sense of relief could be heard in his next ragged breath.

Michael's breathing became slower, shallower. The blood flow had slowed now and to make it more free, Gabriel withdrew the sword from Michael's chest. Michael sharply inhaled as the blade left him. He exhaled it as sharply, then he took a rasping breath, slowly. His throat rattled with the blood filling it now, but he managed enough breath to speak in a whisper what he had pressed himself to remain to say. As his last words, he hoped his brother might better recall them. It was vital that he recall them. He began, "Gabriel… "

"What, now?" Gabriel shot back growing annoyed by his brother's persistence. He just wanted him gone now. Michael drew another breath to say, "Remember." Michael infused that word with all of the Imperative gift he could gather. The word sounded in multiple layers of voice, evidence he had succeeded.

Then, with another breath he continued to speak that which was so gravely important for his brother to remember. He spoke slowly but clearly in a breathy whisper. It was all he could manage. "I…" He took another breath. Michael's lower lip quivered as he struggled to form the next word, "forgive…" With the last of that same breath, the next word was spoken …"you." Michael stilled as his life departed; his great heart silenced. Gabriel sneered, "To the last, Michael, offering what no one really needs or wants."

It was the custom to take the first blood immediately following death. Instead of just taking the last few drops from Michael's flow of blood along his ribs and since, with a stilled heart, no additional blood issued, Gabriel drew his finger across the wound on Michael's chest wanting to rob him of all of his life… to take all his body had to give post mortem. This was the purified blood of his brother's voluntary suffering and death; the blood of a sacrifice of love. The Cure. It was done.

Gabriel scraped the bloodied finger of final blood into the cup, making all of it a cure for him, however unnecessarily now. He instructed the attending Higher Angels, "Take him down and burn him." Then he raised the full chalice to the quieted chamber and announced robustly, "Come, anoint yourselves in the blood of our fallen enemy and celebrate your new god's ascension!" Gabriel touched his own thumb into the blood and brushed it onto his forehead to begin the festivities.

Then he passed the cup to the waiting angels who had participated in and witnessed the end of Michael. Some out of fear, some in shock, most for joy, anointed themselves and readied for the celebration. Cheers rose throughout the aerie, as the angels anticipated the orgy to follow.

The Higher Angel attendants took Michael's body down from where he hung, removed the great hook and hurriedly flew the Archangel's remains to the incinerator. There were many bodies there waiting to be cremated. They were the bodies of the angels Michael had slain on delivering himself to this fate.

The angels who brought Michael here didn't want to miss the fun of the festivities following the enemy's death, so they tossed Michael's body atop the nearest waiting remains heap and quickly returned to the celebration. They anointed themselves in Michael's blood from the golden chalice. They chose a group with whom to participate and joined the celebration orgy in progress.

xxxx

Michael's abdomen moved, shooing the insects that had settled to harvest fresh blood. It was not breath that stirred him. Michael had been host to an infant Welrupt, who had survived its host's torture and was now matured enough to be born from him. Its host, having died with it still within, it was not able to breathe and was distressed.

Typically, the beast would burst forth from wherever was a weak point in the host's body, its umbilical pulling the organs it had attached to along with it, leaving its barely, but still living host to die horribly, even as the unfortunate host was finally freed from the paralytic poison the parent would have injected upon seeding its offspring. But that process had been skipped. There was no parent to instruct or receive the Welrupt infant and, most significantly, there was never a Welrupt borne of an archangel.

The infant was being quite active in its panic. A tendril moved through thehost's esophagus. It pushed Michael's mouth open to emerge the tendril enough to take air. Then it retreated.

The beast moved into Michael's chest cavity, embraced the heart whose blood had nourished it so completely and fired a charge. The heart fluttered in an attempt to beat, but failed. The Welrupt returned to the abdomen and busied itself visiting Michael's wounds , including where the beast had fed itself. It deposited its unique secretion to each ravaged place.

The Jelly of Welrupt was used medicinally. Other than their fierceness as a Weapon of Heaven, this was why they were kept. Their secretion could seal wounds, but this Welrupt's jelly did more. It was healing wounds, returning soundness even to a deceased body and filtering the poisons from the empyrean steel barbs and from the toxic byproducts of the Welrupt infant's habitation of the host.

It was not working quickly enough. As Michael's body lay stilled, bathed in the blood of his sacrifice and washed in the light of glorious halo, the essence form of the greatest of all Archangels began to vacate its cold, ruined body.

Alex and Noma dimensionally flashed into Jillian's chambers just as Jillian and Raphael heard the celebration rise up throughout the city on the announcement of Michael's 'defeat'. The angels thought Gabriel would become peaceful now. Many thought they were safe with Michael gone and so celebrated. Those who'd heard via Mihr's word being passed would honor Michael's death in secret so as not to enrage "The Monster".

Jillian had gathered herself to her strength now. She was seated in a chair with Raphael standing nearby ready to help her in any and every way she could. Jillian knew it was true. Michael was gone. She could feel his absence physically now. Tears flowed from the well of her soul… silently… as her body trembled from the irrepressible emotion of loss and her control of the powerful instinct to smite the cause of that loss.

She swallowed hard and lowered her head, not having the strength to hold it upright. Alex, seeing the truth of Michael's passing in Jillian's grief, reacted to the loss of his father, "No, no! We were too late, too late!" Noma stood frozen at the prospect of the loss of her General.

"You were not too late," Jillian said. "You were where he required you to be, safe. Go now, Alex. Be that again. We are not yet secure." Michael had shared with Jillian that Alex was his son. It was important to him that Alex be known as his family and welcomed as son and brother. Jillian was not surprised.

She had suspected as much and had celebrated Michael's joy in the news. She had pledged to her Beloved to keep Alex safe and to deliver the scroll Michael had prepared for him when it was time. She dealt now with the grief of an angry son, a son deprived of a father he'd only recently discovered and had never met face to face as father and son. It would be difficult for the Chosen One.

"How can we ever be safe!? You just let Gabriel kill him? How is that going to make us safe from The Darkness he carries?" Alex accused angrily. "If you won't smite him, I will find a way!" Noma reached for Alex and held him in check. "Alex, Alex, no," she said to him compassionately.

Jillian addressed the distraught child of her mate, "Alex, I cannot say more, for your own safety. Be assured , your father has done what was necessary and best. Grieve, then be ready to move forward. There will be much to accomplish. "

Finally Noma could say what she felt. With deepest reverence she said to the room of the mourning, "No greater one has ever been, nor is likely to ever be again." She reached for Alex again to comfort him and share their grief. Alex and Noma then approached Jillian. They kissed the mate of Michael on her cheek in reverence and grief. Jillian caught Alex's arm to hold him near before he moved away.

She reached beside her for the scroll Michael had left for him. She slipped the scroll into Alex's hand. "This is from your father. He knew you would need more than I could convey at this time." She cupped her hand to the child's cheek lovingly. "He did love you, so, child. Go now. Be safe and cherish the words your father has left." Alex and Noma did as Michael's formidable mate asked. They flew to seclusion once again to await word of how to proceed… without Michael.

Raphael moved to Jillian and placed his hand on her shoulder in support and sharing of her grief. Tears streamed from his silver eyes down his golden cheeks. He shimmered to feminine form with a rush of empathy for Jillian flowing. Neither spoke. They waited to see if Jillian had work to do as Michael's second or if Michael's work had made her intervention unnecessary. An hour into the celebrations…everyone silenced. Jillian and Raphael noticed. Then they heard the reason.

Gabriel had been enjoying the orgy that followed the success of Michael's termination when the smudge of Michael's blood sacrifice of love on his hand and at his forehead worked its cure. The deep blackness in Gabriel's eyes and over his body, which marked the presence of The Darkness in him evaporated, as in a flash of its working, Michael's purified blood burned away the product of his core of being from his brother.

Gabriel was freed from its torment and misguidance but realization of what he'd done to Michael, his beloved brother was unbearable. When that fully came to him, Gabriel screamed his horror with such depth of grief that it was heard by every soul, as Gabriel's messenger gift made him capable of such a transmission. He could not control its passage. Michael had succeeded in his duty. Jillian was frozen in her personal hell. It was too soon for her to have compassion that Gabriel was in a hell of his own.

Gabriel could not bear the pain of his heart and ran to fall upon his own sword, still stained with the blood of Michael's great heart. It was then he heard Michael, recalled his last whispered words… _**"Gabriel, remember, I forgive you."**_ He fell to his knees as more of Michael's remembered words came again. _**"You must foster them in my absence…my family".**_

His duty was to Michael and to Michael's family. Michael had given him forgiveness and purpose. He had given his family to him. It would be a great cowardice not to honor that. It was a way to honor Michael. He had deprived Michael's family of their father and his mate of her beloved. He would repay his brother's sacrifice every day for the rest of his existence. He said aloud to his absent twin, "You have saved me twice today, Michael. Such is a brother's love."

He dropped the sword and his intent and pledged, " I can never match your mercy or honor, but I will strive in every moment to be worthy of it." Thinking his brother's remains had been incinerated, and there was no more to attend there, Gabriel turned his attention to undoing his actions of the past year. First he had to release his Parents.

As soon as Lyrae noticed Gabriel was cured, he realized he did not want Father and certainly not his mate released. He liked the anarchy. He liked his new freedom. Two Gods would be unbearable. He knew where the sigil, the legacy lock to their prison was located. Gabriel had bragged about it to the angel he had been intimate with at the orgy and Lyrae had overheard. Lyrae recalled where long ago he had secreted away near New Delphi, one of heaven's weapons, a sonic explosive.

He flew there, retrieved it and took it to where Gabriel had whispered was the location of the Legacy Emblem on his Parents' prison. Lyrae exploded the sonic device with expertise and in such a way that it fragmented the Legacy Emblem. No one would be releasing the Almighties, now. Lyrae felt that this act would punish Gabriel for his inaction to keep him from being ripped from his body by Michael and cast into the Outer Sphere…and for his having been returned there after eviction by Michael's and Gabriel's little friend, The Chosen One.

Lyrae knew when the cured Gabriel found he couldn't undo what he'd done to his Parents , Gabriel would be bereft. He was pleased with his retribution on the brothers who had ruined his life. Unbeknownst to Lyrae, part of the lock's genetic content, because of Gabriel's condition at the time he made it, was Darkness. Some of that absorbed to Lyrae when he destroyed the sigil…some Darkness fell away to free roam. In time, Lyrae would become the thing he had made of Gabriel and had unleashed on the world. For now, he disappeared to make of his freedom what he would.

Gabriel hurried to the Legacy Emblem only to find it shattered. "Father, how can I undo this? What must I do?" There was only silence to answer his pleadings. Gabriel collected the pieces of the sigil lock. He placed them in a small chest and locked them in the vault with his Father's tears. As Keeper of the Keys, he would keep it safe. He made his way back to the aerie to think, to do necessary things and to wait…

Jillian's new assistant, the angel Tal-na'a brought her a message, " My lady, I regret to intrude on your grief, but this message has arrived from Gabriel's aerie." Raphael took the bit of paper Jillian was too grief stricken to reach for and read it. The writing was beautiful but scrawled by the tremor of emotion it took to set it to page.

When he'd finished his silent reading, Raphael choked back the need to cry aloud with an inward gasp, but he could not withhold the tears. With the salty, silvery moisture of his grief streaming down etched golden cheek, he shimmered to female, then returned to male to have access to the detachment and strength he required to read it aloud to his brother's beloved.

" _ **My dear sister, I, Gabriel, have ended the life of our beloved Michael while in the grips of an insanity only his love and sacrifice could lift. I, as I am, would have chosen death, no matter the cost, that he might have remained. I wanted to die when I realized what had come to pass, but my brother so loved that he saved me a second time by his forgiveness. Honor was born the day Michael was made. There are no words to express the grace of your mate's mercy or the strength of his heart. I shall spend my life in his debt and service, as I am ever in yours. You surely knew of his intentions and I honor his sacrifice as yours. Michael lives in us…the family he so loved…in glory for all time. You alone can know my grief and turmoil at this moment. I hold myself apart, in blame. My brother, my twin is ash and I am less. Gabriel**_ **"**

Raphael set the letter onto Jillian's lap and left the splendid room. They would each need time alone to process their loss.

The Welrupt had infused healing gel throughout its host. Now, for whatever reason that was the Welrupt's alone, the beast charged the still heart of its host again, and again, refusing to give up on the heart's restoration to its given work. Finally it beat, slowly, reluctantly. There was little for it to pump but with the Welrupt's work, soundness was detected where before there was not and Michael's unique Illuminavitae, healing from the Welrupt's contribution, fired the spark of life.

Michael's body drew in a ragged breath. His great essence, settled back toward its mending body. His body was still in halo as once more the aurora of his essence presence settled and the body absorbed to it the glorious and unique archangel life essence.

Plasma charged air ignited in running lightening. Thunder of rushing air displaced by it sounded as the essence rejoined its mighty and extraordinary physical form in the miracle of a life storm. Michael stirred as his halo and life storm subsided. The Welrupt grew silent and still while its healing work took better effect. The host's rare genetics also enjoined and continued healing him at an accelerated rate. Already the Welrupt's work and Michael's healing was enough to bring him to consciousness.

Michael stirred again, by his restored life. His body was still healing and racked with pain. He groaned as he coped with it. He awakened to a halting and strange, muffled, pleading voice. " Release. I." Michael looked for the speaker with groggy and blurred, not quite restored vision. He tried to speak, "Where…"

"Save. Power. My. Kal. Must. Cut. Here." Michael felt a scoring being made within his abdomen and flinched. "Begin. At. Soft. Beneath. Last…" the voice paused as it searched for a word: "Frame. Cut. To. Center. Here. Do. Now. Suffer. I. To. Wait."

Michael looked around him. The body beneath him bore a small dagger. He could not see well but he did see the flash of the metal. He took it to the place he'd felt the scoring, below his left rib. He hesitated, his hand and body trembled from strain and the too soon exertion. Was he just hallucinating this?

"Plead. To. Quicken. My. Kal. Help. I. Help. My. Kal." He felt pressure growing in his abdomen, it hurt him. He flinched. The pain made him realize it was a genuine need, he began the incision. It was excruciating, but he cut along the path he felt scored within him.

The Welrupt slipped free at the incision. It was quite large for an infant and looked markedly different. Welrupts were grey disc shaped membranes with tendrils and grasping claws along the outer edge and at their center as an armor that protected their few internal organs. They had an octopus-like beak at their opposite side center which was the beast's mouth. They were simple creatures. They lived, they ate, they did battle and reproduced asexually. They were parasites with few higher order functions or thoughts save for rearing their young. They were designed to slice, electrocute and poison and so immobilize and torment their angelic victims unto death.

This Welrupt borne of Michael had a body and a head…with a very expressive face! It spoke language. It instructed Michael again, "Follow. Within. Cut. Life. Chord." Michael followed the umbilical with his hand to the place within him it was attached and cut the Welrupt infant free. Michael nearly fell unconscious from the effort, but the Welrupt prompted him with an effective shock.

"Take. Gel. Of. I. My. Kal." With his violently shaking hand, Michael stroked the Welrupt's offered underbelly gathering the jelly it secreted. "Hold. To. Cut. Gel. Of. I. Seal." Michael spread the gel from end to end of the incision and then passed to unconsciousness. The Welrupt purred, "My. Kal. Good."

Now, the Welrupt infant, did what was instinctual, it looked for its parent. It saw only Michael, from whom it sprang. In this moment, the sound of Michael's name became more than name. "My. Kal." I said adoringly and gratefully. I had imprinted to Michael. The name that's heavenly meaning was "Most like unto God", "The Father" became, in I's language, in this moment, to mean father. Father was the unconscious, vastly unique Archangel whose genetics had created a new kind of being; a sentient being of thoughtful compassion who had chosen not to kill, but to save its host, its father.

The Ruptling draped its membrane self so that it could wrap about and hold to Michael's chest and abdomen with its outer claws, wanting its father's warmth and the comfort of his heartbeat. The infant hugged its parent, resting its tiny head to Michael's chest. It was very hungry also and sent a tendril to a nearby recently deceased to suckle the blood. The beast thought the blood was awful. The Welrupt sputtered the foul taste of a not living meal. It turned to its only living source. "My. Kal. Feed. I?" It waited for Michael's answer.

It rocked Michael in an attempt to rouse him. The Welrupt infant purred to soothe itself in its growing stress state. It waited as long as its infant mind would permit. Desperate, the Welrupt infant sought to serve its own need for life. It sank its feeding tendril into its father. The force of entry was a jolt to his body, but Michael was too weak to react in any way. The Welrupt required the richest blood, and so fed from the blood of Michael's heart as he slept unconscious - imperceptibly alive. The infant purred in contentment.

xxxx

Gabriel had sent everyone away. His aerie was empty, silent. Its very walls stained with shame for having housed such atrocity as had been inflicted on his own twin by his hand. He would destroy it all himself…when he could.

There was a flutter of great wings. Gabriel reached for his sword to terminate the hapless intruder to his grief. He stood to strike and froze mid-sentence "You, fool, forfeit life for intrusion on my grie…"

The splendor of Jillian took his breath and his shame took his strength. He dropped the sword and fell at her feet. My Lady, my life is yours to do with as you will…take it, I beg you."

Jillian wanted to kill him. It took every shred of strength not to. "I want to, Gabriel. More than I ever wanted anything before Michael. But then, his sacrifice would have been for nothing, you see. " Jillian swallowed hard as she offered her hand to the hand that tortured and killed her beloved. Stand with me, Gabriel and mourn our dear one as no other two can."

Gabriel couldn't stand. He fell prone and wept. Jillian stooped to him and raised him up and into her arms. They grieved together at their terrible loss. She did what Michael had asked of her. She completed his task of saving Gabriel. She gave him the only real thing that could save him from his past deeds: love , forgiveness, mercy…a way back from his dark road…salvation.

When she could, Jillian asked Gabriel, "Take me to him, Gabriel." Momentarily, she thought she could feel Michael. She dismissed it as proximity to his remains. She refocused to hear Gabriel respond.

"He…" Gabriel's voice caught as he tried to say the pointlessness of her request. More was his shame that he had not preserved Michael in amber as befit his station, but had had him treated as a rabid animal's remains. "He will have been cremated."

Jillian steeled herself . She knew that from Gabriel's note, but the way that aloud revelation by him struck was as a blade to her heart. "Yes. I would have his ashes." A tear fell from her that she could not restrain.

"I will take you." Gabriel indicated the direction they should go.

Jillian signaled behind her for a small flight of angels led by Raphael to join them. They came from their concealment, where they had been standing prepared to kill Gabriel if he moved against Jillian. Now they were to serve as escort for Michael's remains.

Gabriel took them into the incineration chamber. Bodies left unincinerated because of the celebrations were strewn and piled like cord wood. The incinerator was cold. That meant no one had been recently cremated. Jillian's steeled expression melted to the realization he would still be here - as Gabriel's actions had left him.

She had already seen too much of that earlier, in the unintended transmission of Mihr's mind. Now, she would have to view his ravaged body in person. Confused emotions beset her. As mate of a great warrior, she should stand in strength at the recovery and presentation to her of his remains. As mate of her greatest beloved, she wanted to be spared this horror.

She had not realized what a mercy his cremation might have been. It was too late to preserve him, but it was also, because of Mihr, too late for her to be spared sight and knowledge of what he endured. She would receive him as it would honor him to know and she would bring him home, into the bosom of all he loved. "Find him." She said to Raphael and his team, restoring her strength and resolve before it was even noticed to have failed her.

They didn't have to search long. To everyone's shock, Michael's body was in the grips of a Welrupt, and being fed upon. Swords were drawn to slice the beast away from the archangel. The Welrupt went on the defensive. It flushed to a fiery red from its soft pink grey complexion. It fluttered its surrounding membrane in threat and to generate its electrical power.

Its tendrils fired electrical charges which to everyone's surprise created a shield around it and Michael. No Welrupt could do that, much less an infant. The angel cadre charged at the beast. To the amazement of all, it presented wings and began to take Michael's body aloft. Then it did something else no Welrupt had ever done, it presented a face and shouted, "No. Harm. My. Kal! You. No. Harm. Good!"

Jillian and the cadre stopped, frozen in utter disbelief. A Welrupt that could speak! Jillian recovered out of intense wish to secure Michael and stepped forward to address the Welrupt who held her beloved's body in its grip.

"Hold, Ruptling. I am mate to the one you carry. I would have his body. Will you surrender your …meal in respect."

"My. Kal. Good. Save. Respect."

"If you release him, you may have your meal here instead." Jillian tore her clothing baring her breast to the infant.

"My. Kal . Good. Save. Keep."

"I am a living meal. I will be delicious to you. I will be…good."

"My Kal. Delicious. Also. Good."

Jillian began to understand the Welrupt had not meant Michael was a good and tasty meal.

"You… understand Michael was…good?"

"Yes. Yes. My. Kal. Great. Good. Save. Protect."

"But he is gone from us. You cannot save the good. There is no m…more to protect." Jillian stuttered through saying the "more" as she felt the emotion of her loss, but recovered.

"That. One. Bad. Hurt. My. Kal. Again. Again!" The Welrupt was panicked and furious at the presence of Gabriel. It presented a tiny, perfect hand to point out the offending one.

"Away, Gabriel, quickly, please." Jillian asked of the stricken Gabriel without turning from the Ruptling. Gabriel realized this was the Welrupt he had implanted into Michael as a torture. He whispered to Jillian, "Michael was its host by my hand. That may help you understand it." He said as he turned to leave under the weight of the shocked glare of all of those in the company who had overheard the whispered admission.

Jillian was not, in that moment, the only one who felt the desire to lash out at Gabriel, but her focus remained on recovering her mate and her words re-engaged the others, "Michael was your host but he is deceased now…he is… over." This was very difficult for Jillian but she could see the beast's panic and knew helping it would help her get Michael's body.

"Not. Over. Still."

"What do you hope to do with him?"

"Save. My. Kal. Give. Life. "

"He did give you life but he is ended in his life and you must release him. We have… to honor him."

"My. Kal. Parent . To. I. Honor. My. Kal."

Raphael could speak finally. He leaned to Jillian. "This is unprecedented. Michael evolved the infant. He is parent to a new species." Jillian regarded Raphael with an expression of amazement. Then she looked at the Ruptling and realized the truth of his words. Even in death, Michael gave rise to life. She felt such awe at his creation abilities and felt the pang of his loss even more greatly recalling their own moments as creation together. When she could speak again, Jillian changed her tone to address the Welrupt as a child rather than a beast.

"Have you a name little one?" asked Jillian.

"Call. I."

"I, we are also family of Michael. Be with us to honor him."

"Only. Heart. Of. My. Kal. Jilli-an. Family."

"That is my name. I am Jilli-an."

"Ahh. Ohh!" The Welrupt said in a sing-song expression of wondrous realization. It flew to Jillian with Michael. "Honor. My. Kal. Life. Still. Save." The beast became a soft pinkish grey and ceased its defensiveness. Gently, lovingly, it lowered Michael into Jillian's arms. It would let no one else near. When Raphael tried to assist, the Welrupt bowed at him and its electricity hissed into warning snaps and crackles. Raphael stepped back. Under his breath he, smiling in admiration, said, "Feisty little Ruptling!"

"Feist! Feist! To. You. No. One!" The little being shot back, having heard. Raphael smiled again. "My name is Raphael, I. I am…was… brother to Michael .

"Why. Change. To. Was. Feist?"

"Michael is no more. We are very sad."

I purred sadly and a bit confused as I said, "My. Kal. Live. More."

In Jillian's arms now, she could feel Michael's warmth. "Oh, Mother of Hope!" She exclaimed, "He is alive! Raphael, help me." Gabriel could hear this from his concealed vantage point. He sank to his knees in shocked, breathless hope.

Raphael rushed in to help Jillian settle Michael to a nearby table. Since Jillian had requested it, the Welrupt allowed it. Raphael brought water and cloth. Blood, fresh blood pooled from the place on Michael's chest where the Welrupt had been feeding. Jillian blotted it. More flowed. "There, see, he lives!" Gabriel shed silent tears of joy as he waited for his brother to be tended. Simultaneously, Raphael and Jillian then saw that Michael did indeed draw breath. Raphael exclaimed, "Mercy is upon us! We need to close the wound." Raphael stepped forward to heal Michael.

The Welrupt, who had alighted nearby to watch took exception. "Jilli-an. Do. Good. For. My. Kal. Not. This. Feist! " Then I flew to stop Raphael's touch.

"Yes. Yes, absolutely, yes." Jillian said reassuringly, "I will help Michael and Raphael will help as well. Raphael is a great healer, I."

"Can. Help. I?"

"You need help, I?" Raphael asked.

"I . To. Help. Jilli-an." Said I indignantly, as the Ruptling was aware it could heal Michael and so considered its skill to be the greater.

"How?" Raphael inquired.

"Take. Gel. Of. I. Mend. My. Kal."

Raphael said, "Yes, that will work for now!" and he walked toward I to take the Jelly. Raphael shimmered to female as he reached. A confused I squealed and trembled in fear, "What! Is?! What?!"

"It is alright, I. Raphael shimmers and changes forms. I assure you, all of them are good," explained Jillian hurriedly.

"I. Not. Understand. Trust. Jilli-an…. Heart. To. My. Kal. " I squinted warily at Raphael, "Not. Feist!" I purred in a worrisome tone yet managed a throaty growl in a threatening way as Raphael reached to stroke I's belly to get the gel I produced. "You'll get used to me, I", the stunning feminine Raphael soothed. Her voice and expression were so gentle, that I allowed her to touch the gel. The purr changed to a self-calming hum as I then grew concerned for Michael.

Raphael had allowed the Welrupt to help in order to ease the tension between them. She had no way of knowing the healing properties of I's gel. She gathered her healing power to her and placed her hands on Michael's chest. She placed the hand with I's gel over his wound so the gel could do its sealing work at the same time Raphael applied her gift to heal the rest of Michael's body. When she was finished she stepped back and shimmered to male. Michael remained unmoving.

Raphael indicated with a gesture that all that could be done had been. "Why does he not stir?" Jillian asked with intense concern. "I'm not certain," Raphael answered shaking his head in confused worry. "He is restored to the best of my ability. His matrix has altered again. My restorative complexes in certain cases …" Raphael pursed his lips and shook his head to indicate his being confounded by what he felt of Michael "…his wings, certain organs… are transformed to be singular to him. I could only seat a prompt to regenerate.

His own restorative properties have become… unique. I's gel is unique. It has properties that are identical to Michael's. They, together, may do more than my work, given time." Raphael placed his hand on the worried, Jillian's forearm to comfort her as he added, "We can but hope, Jilli-an. I …cannot fully heal him."

"Ability. Of. I. Feist. Much. Help. To. My. Kal? "

"I believe so, I." Raphael confirmed.

Gabriel entered the room then, with a Welrupt handler he had summoned. The caretaker had, in hand , a beautiful, in a fierce way, strong mature Welrupt. Gabriel felt the tensions in the room. He had been near enough to have heard some of Raphael's words. Gabriel knew what had been done to Michael, physically.

He hoped his brother would rally. He hoped a little time would be all that Michael needed now to recover. He could not bear to lose him now. And he sought to correct at least one horrible thing he'd done. He wanted the Welrupt he had taken from its parent to have a choice now. I fluttered in distaste at Gabriel's presence, ready to fling onto Michael in his defense from Gabriel.

"I," Gabriel began. "This is your parent of origin. You are not like Michael, I, but you are changed by his host of your infancy. You are more than your parent but you are most like your parent. Your parent is ready to take care of you. I was wrong when I took you from your parent and placed you within my brother to inflict hurt on Michael…"

"I. Not. Bad. Not .Hurt. My. Kal. Parent. Of. I. You. Hurt. I! You. Hurt. My. Kal!

"Yes, very badly. I was …gravely ill and Michael worked to cure me, to save me. Michael loved me that much. So much he died at my hand… his life ended…to save me."

"You. Most. Nearly. End. I! Great. Power. Fire. End. I. Then. I. Return. From. Dark. Feel. End. Of. My. Kal. You. Hurt. I. Fix. My. Kal. Live. More. You. Go. Bad. Bad." I was very agitated and began to flush red as his electrical discharges snapped and threatened to fire.

"I'll go, if you wish, I," Gabriel said as he began to back away to quiet the quite lethal Ruptling. I _was_ bad, but Michael fixed that. He is my family and I love him. He is in my heart, I. " Gabriel used words I would understand. "May I stay with him, to honor him?"

"You. Bad. Family." I tried to decide, he purred worriedly. "Stay. No. Stay." Finally the Ruptling arrived at a decision. "No. Trust. From. I. To. Bad. Family. But. To. Honor. My. Kal. Stay. I. Keep. Watch." The Ruptling's color blush softened but stayed threatening. Gabriel stayed, but kept his distance.

The Ruptling was very hungry now and flew to Michael. It draped the membrane of its body around him for comfort. It clung to him with small arms that were separate from the membrane, part of the uniqueness imparted by its father.

The outer claws that were part of its fearsome weaponry and made the outer edge of the disc of membrane so that it could form into a slicing, living saw when it was flung toward an enemy, now clung to Michael ever so gently. The living weapon was peaceful now and content with Michael. It rested its tiny head on Michael's chest to hear his heart. "My. Kal. Good." I said lovingly purring. Jillian moved to take the Welrupt off of Michael but Raphael stopped her, "Wait." He advised.

"My. Kal. Feed. I?" The Ruptling rocked Michael. Michael did not respond. I purred in distress.

The parent Welrupt heard the distress purr of its infant. It called to the Ruptling making a sound like a Great Egret's call followed by soft clacking noises of its beak-like mouth. I was drawn to the sound instinctively. I responded to the parent's call with a gentle whirring chirp. The handler walked forward to bring the anxious parent to its child. But I fluttered a warning and the handler stopped. I focused again on the only parent I knew, father.

"My. Kal. Feed. I." The Ruptling repeated more insistently. It could not wait any longer. Confused and in desperate need of nourishment I tapped into Michael's heart blood via his feeding tendril. It was not a gentle process. Michael, having recovered more now than the last time I fed, reacted to the pain. The force of I's tendril driving into his heart forced distressed breath from Michael. I was glad Michael made a sound and with a meal being supplied as well, I purred with satisfaction.

Jillian wanted to take the beast off of Michael's chest at once. Again, Raphael halted her. "A moment."

"Michael doesn't have a moment or the blood to spare. He is too depleted. We may yet lose him."

"There is a connection here we do not yet understand. We must be cautious. Beyond that, you know Michael wouldn't want the Ruptling hurt. Patience, Jilli-an."

Michael groaned deeply at the new draw on his body's critical resources. I squeezed Michael's body and fired a light electrical charge to speed his heart for more blood flow to feed his hunger. Michael responded with a pained moan. His breathing became quick and shallow. Raphael was physically holding Jillian now. "Raphael!" She pled for the archangel to allow her to go to Michael, now. He did not have time to answer her before I spoke.

"My. Kal. Make. Sounds. Good." The Ruptling believed the sound meant all was well. Raphael seized the opportunity to teach. Raphael asked, "What sound did he make, I?" Jillian understood what Raphael was doing and stopped resisting .

"Sound…?" The young Welrupt mutant struggled to match sounds he'd heard. Its eight ounce, partially transparent gullet filled with the blood of the archangel. "Sound...Hurt!" I said with horror and great sadness. "Bad. I. Hurt. My. Kal. I. Bad. To. My. Kal." I detached the feeding tube and slid upward to deposit the healing gel of its belly on Michael's wound.

Raphael was amazed as he watched the Ruptling deny its own need then attempt to seal the wound it left. To his shock, the gel not only sealed, but healed the wound. I was truly extraordinary. I embraced Michael and rested the small perfect and unique head on the archangel's chest to hear the nurturing heartbeat once again. While in the Ruptling's embrace, Michael awoke.

The Ruptling was making a sound nearly like weeping. Michael placed his hand on I's outer membrane, and stroked the small, unique beast's back. "Be at ease. You have done well. I am grateful young one." Michael comforted the small being who had saved his life.

The Ruptling gasped, "My. Kal. Speak! Ahh. Ohh!" The Ruptling embraced Michael more tightly. Michael flinched because the tighter a Welrupt grasped, the deeper its under claws would dig. While I was keeping the 12 claws sheathed, they still bore down on tender flesh.

"I. So. Joy. Like. Heart. Of. My. Kal. To. See. Jilli-an. I. Not. Bad. To. My .Kal?"

Michael cupped his hand to the Ruptling's tiny, formerly joy-filled , now worried face. "No. I is very, very good. We have been through much together, but your parent of origin worries for you now. Our time together has been well spent little one. We will meet again. Now see to your parent who awaits and be mindful. You are smarter, but not wiser." Michael said touching a fingertip to I's tiny nose. The Welrupt parent had left the care of the handler to undulate to Michael's side.

Staring adoringly into Michael's respectful countenance, I asked the great archangel, "My. Kal. Love. I?"

"Yes, I." Michael said with great compassion pouring from him and genuine gratitude. He smiled warmly at I. I hugged him again. Michael returned the embrace. Then the Ruptling flew to the back of its parent who sounded a trill of happy contentment. The parent raised a tendril over I meant to protect its infant, but I took a little gymnastic spin around it , looking like a unique bead spinning on a string.

The parent undulated its body to move the 12 belly claws as feet in the way regular Welrupts walked. As the parent moved away it chittered, issuing a cautionary reprimand to the exuberant , spinning offspring while I glanced back to say, "My. Kal. See. I. Soon?"

"You will, I. A promise." Michael said looking after the departing new being. He would see I. He had to. I would need guidance and love to negotiate a world in which there were no others like I. That, after all, is what a father should do. Michael's genetics had made him part of creation… parent to a new species…again.

Michael glanced about the room. He smiled to see his sibling. "Gabriel, you are well?" He asked. Gabriel flew to his brother wishing to convey his deepest apology. He knelt beside Michael, "Michael, I…"

"Shh, shh, shh, Gabriel. There is no need, Brother." Gabriel wept for his brother's capacity for mercy toward him. Then Michael saw Raphael who stepped forward. Michael said, "Thank you, my dear and steadfast sibling." Raphael nodded acceptance of his gratitude. Raphael stepped aside then, so that Jillian, who had been behind him, was now in Michael's view.

Michael held his hand out to Jillian, "Beloved." Jillian walked forward to take Michael's hand. Whatever else was said remained between them. He spoke it to her mind and soul but the love on their faces spoke volumes.

The brothers walked away to give the two extraordinarys a moment. Jillian took Michael's palm to her cheek and cradled it's warmth with her eyes closed for a moment, then kissed the hand of her mate. As she dusted her lips over his fingers moistening them with her silent tears of joy, Michael fell to a healing unconsciousness, to dream of her embrace. "Rest and recover, Blessing to my life," she whispered as he slept.

Four years later

Michael choked softly in his sleep and woke with a light cough to clear his throat as his eyes opened from his dream state into a dream-like place. The heavy golden wing draped over him had given him to inhale a bit of feather down. He rolled the wing away from him to be greeted by the equally golden light of the rich Tuscany-like sun bathed hills outside the window of the bedroom. He breathed deep the sweetness and felt the twinge of the salt air as it danced in concert with the fragrance of evergreen , earth and her herbal and floral dressings. The subtle orange blossom scent of his extraordinary mate was woven into the complexity of scent that was… home.

He woke to home and joy and love. The light glistened on Jillian's perfect skin. As time passed, there had developed an insinuated lustrous under layer of his sleeping mate's silky skin. It could be best likened to the nacre of a pearl. As he watched her, she fluttered her golden wing and sheathed it leaving all of her nakedness revealed to him. Michael was moved to passion at the sight of her and softly traced her ear, neck, and shoulder with the lightest of kisses and hint of breath to stir the skin to life and waken Jillian with sensation of his intent.

He heard the pillow- muffled sigh of her waking delight filled with the prospect of their imminent joining. A gossamer row of sheer drapery rose to welcome a breeze into the room. The air further heightened the sensation of Michael's breath as the air was cool and he was hot. Jillian sighed with deeper delight as he ran along her body's curves with his tongue down the length of her side to the sole of her foot . She turned to lie on the flat of her back to allow him to trace up the length of the inside of her leg moving his hands along the outer sides of her ahead of his tongue's path. Along the way, he found he couldn't wait and pulled her into his hungry mouth's seeking of the depths of her delicacy.

He let his hands take their strength and warmth up her abdomen to her chest to permit his fingers to tarry with her breasts. His wings snapped into presence . Their iridescent black feathers were now streaked with golden markings on their interior, which had presented in their restoration, born of his manifested blending with Jilli-an and his new standing as true born son of the Almighties. He edged the wings beneath her and pulled her to him so swiftly as to force an exhalation from her. His body had insisted that he explore her more deeply, more intimately. Deeper he swirled and flicked his tongue and excited her to orgasm with his mouth's skilled endeavors.

The feel of her in ecstasy fired his desire to be more a part of her. He hurried his lips trace up her body's landscape to kiss her urgently as his body followed it's well informed seeking to enter her. The resonance of his body's requirement thrilled her and hers thrilled him. He thrust himself to her deeply and quickly.

He had to have her filled with him, surrounded by him. He wanted the world to end with their beginning. No thoughts of anything, but one another. He saw to it. She fought his penetrating command of her senses. His intensity so quickly on her had taught her to check him.

She knew her resistance would spur him to greater heights and provide him with a completeness in pursuit of his need. She used her wings to turn to be atop him and pinned his arms with them briefly as she took his lips to hers while depriving his hands their longing to touch her. She traced him with her hands reveling in his body's strength and the beauty of his sleek perfection.

Encircling her fingers around the base of his erection, she massaged him deeply as she slowly rose then having her hands give way, she pulled him deeply to her, pressing to him hard. He moaned his pleasure then he pursued her again, rising to her, weaving his hands into her hair, embracing her with his wings, he pulled her to him in a deep kiss as they thrust and rocked and pressed their bodies together holding closely, stroking, pulling, with wing and hands to find every pleasure.

Just the way he kissed her robbed her of any thought. She focused on the pleasure of his lips, their full, relaxed firmness brushed and pressed to her. She engaged the play of his seeking tongue. She lost herself in the sweetness of his breath, the warm, soft firmness of the depths of his mouth.

She was drawn then to the power of his presence within her. It was not like human contact. He filled her completely and caressed every part of her. His body's resonance and his essence of being reached beyond mere touch to stroke and embrace and titillate until even her previous thoughts could not focus on anything but the sensations of their oneness. He was equally as consumed with Jillian as her body engaged him entirely.

Unable to hold back the desire of his core, Michael's angelfire enveloped Jillian in overwhelming sensation. They wanted to melt into complete oneness and in breathtaking waves of a mutual ecstasy they flashed beyond physical presence to essence. They became a torrent of blending, swirling plasma, washing over, around within, through one another sharing an unequaled pleasure.

The exchange between their essence fired lightening and the temperature changes forcing the air to violent updrafts and downdrafts created a low rumbling thunder as it added to the rotation of their essence states. They excited one another to the point of notwithstanding even the separateness of this state of being.

Michael's angelfire flashed within their essence being's unity and ignited a chain reaction between them. In the achievement of the ultimate climactic oneness they transformed to a state of creation. The earth trembled from their force of being. Heatless plasma ran through the room as the flash of their creation took them beyond the boundaries of time and space to exist as one in their completeness of joining.

No matter how often they joined in this way, it was never ordinary, never the same. It was experience of an unending variety of pleasure so intense the physical body could not endure it, the celestial body of essence could not endure it. It's power was creation, not in a primordial sense, but in a way never before achieved. It was a perfection of two becoming one together and with everything. Unprecedented.

xxxx

Gabriel arrived just as the light of mutual halo subsided. He smiled, happy for his brother and mate's joy and frankly in awe of what his Father and Mother had created in them. He had in tow another unique creation, his nephew, a new beginning for man and angel kind, the first of a new species. The nine year old Michael-Gabriel had spent Saturday with his Uncle Gabriel and had stayed the night with him in Celestia, the new city Gabriel was building on earth to rival the Silver City at Heaven's Gate.

There would be Dimensional Travel Ports there so bound humans could travel freely to other parts of the Universe. The more they learned and experienced, the sooner they could re-ascend. Michael-Gabriel enjoyed the science of Dimensional Travel and was helping his Uncle with designs for the Port's key equipment.

Gabriel had loved seeing Michael with his son these past four years. His brother had always wanted to be a father and despite his great duties, he was an excellent father in every best way with his son. He'd given him all the things he'd had to withhold from his mentorship of his first son, The Chosen One.

Gabriel thought back on the Chosen child's birth and early life of that time and how fiercely Michael had protected Alex from his own efforts to end him. It was all a convoluted tangle. But it was turning out well now that everyone knew of their true relationship. They'd always said their fates were tied…and so they were.

Gabriel and Michael and Raphael had met several times a week for all these years still working to find a way to open the sigil to Father and Mother's prison where Gabriel had locked them during his Darkness madness. The brothers felt certain they'd find a way to free their Parents soon and they kept that hope.

Michael-Gabriel had in tow with him his dear L'ann, daughter of Raphael. Raphael had never shared the name of the father, nor her own standing as parent with L'ann though Gabriel suspected L'ann's adoptive parents, Jillian and Michael knew all. Gabriel thought he wouldn't be surprised if in a few years the two young people, Michael-Gabriel and L'ann, became mated. His thought was jostled by the antics of their assemblage of friends.

L'ann was riding Adonis who also carried Diamond. Diamond's tail repeatedly dusted L'ann's face as it wagged his joy and his lolling tongue dripped saliva onto Adonis' head, much to Adonis' annoyance . Asencha flew in low beside Atheleta who neighed her customary comment about the spittle on Adonis' head. The stallion dropped his head and shook it, shedding himself of the slobber and its production plant. This was a relatively normal routine by now. Diamond scrambled to his feet and ran to circle Adonis and nip at his hind feet in mock retaliation.

Up the road a dust cloud rose as a vehicle approached. General Dianna and Ladienne were bringing Alexa to join the family for a Sunday dinner. Alex swooped from his trajectory overhead, to happily tap the roof of their vehicle, letting them know he and Noma were there, too. Alexa hung her head out of the car and waved gleefully to her winged parents who'd agreed to a shared parenting with her adoptive human family. Alexa would not have any grief over a loss of parents. She did not have a broken home, but strong, unified- to-her- benefit, plural homes.

Michael came out onto the back veranda then, to greet his family. He had quickly dressed in black trousers, black, sleeveless, deep V-neck tee with V seam work on the front… some things never changed. Jillian had gone to the kitchen to get things under way there, but stuck her head out the back door to say welcome. She knew some mischief of an athletic sort would erupt as soon as Alex and Michael could arrange it and they'd be hungry soon afterward.

Behind Jillian, through the kitchen windows, Gabriel could see Raphael materialize from a dimensional arrival. He had wine in hand- always a good sign. Michael's musical laughter rose alone yet he wore a grimace to his face as Adonis recounted the spit incident. It was not the first reciting or the last story of its kind, but the way Adonis told the spittle accounts was always pricelessly entertaining.

Asencha flew up over them in greeting of the beautiful , sleek Welrupt, dressed in elegant loose-fitting custom made clothing to suit his uniqueness and who flew gracefully on grey feathered wings to light beside Michael, standing. I was getting taller and more stately. He was at five feet now. He was still maturing. I was an extraordinary Welrupt child. Most Welrupts matured in one year. I was so altered that everything that happened was new, including how he developed to maturity.

I was loved in this family as a brother or sister would be because Michael was, as his most singular host, father to all that I was becoming. Michael had asked I to continue to call him Father in whatever way suited him. So it was that I would sometimes use his phrase, "My Kal", which meant 'father' in his language or just 'father'. Naturally, he'd learned to say Michael properly, as he was complexly intelligent, but always called him father.

Everyone gave greeting by a chorus of a prolonged announcement of the Welrupt's name, " I!" Like a cheer. Everyone laughed in conclusion. Michael embraced I. Raphael had flashed to feminine and now hurried out of the house to greet him and I called out, " _Fiest_!" Raphael laughed and scooped I up to let him ride piggy-back saying, "hang on, I'm going to show you what real flight feels like, squirt. Asencha rose to flight with them, determined to participate in the ariel acrobatics.

They'd made a few swoops when Gabriel's lieutenant, Julian flew to join in. He and Raphael had become acquainted during the efforts to track the rogue, Lyrae. Lyrae's infection with The Darkness had been discovered a year ago by his growing brutality and brazen criminal acts. The enhanced human, Julian had the pleasure of defeating his former possessor, the key being of their Dyad, Lyrae, soundly in the brief battle to end his Darkness fed rampage. They had intended to give him the cure, but he was not as contained as they'd thought.

Julian had been forced to kill Lyrae when he charged Raphael to destroy the wielder of his cure. Everyone hoped the end of Lyrae was the end of The Darkness altogether. Julien was a respected comrade in arms and friend to Gabriel and he'd become more to Raphael. Love had grown between them and now Julian was welcomed family.

Before the fun of their gathering proceeded, Michael took I aside for a walk and a talk. Since I was so changed, Michael had decided it was time to have a serious discussion about his species. As they strolled through the gardens, Michael said, " I, it only becomes more apparent as time passes that you are much more than Welrupt. I wonder that you might wish a new designation?"

" I've thought seriously about this, on many occasions , father.," I admitted. " I don't want to remove my relation to my parent of origin's family, but I see the wisdom of a new assignment. I have chosen: 'Welarch'. 'Wel' naturally from Welrupt and 'arch' from my relation to you, Archangel." Michael smiled his approval. "I'm proud to be part of your chosen classification, I. We shall have Gabriel announce it soon, but I have other news to share…" Michael's talk with I was interrupted by a swooping tackle.

Alex and Julien had started a ball game. Michael and I joined the fray by "invitation" when Julien and Alex soared through. Alex swooped I up by his collar saying "You're on my team, go block Asencha!" I looked at his father with a 'what can I do but join in' expression. Michael took flight and said to Julien as he flew to block I, "Looks like I'm with you."

"ARCS" was the game. Alex had invented it. "Air Racket Contact Soccer" incorporated winged play making it a distinct departure from the standard game. The game began with a tee off with the golf club like portion of the 'stick' that Alex had designed . It was also a racket and had a bumper at its front like a billiard stick fitted with a boxing glove. Once the tee-off had put the ball in play, the ball could be batted with the racket part of the tool or bumped with the que part or any body part save bare hands.

Players could be prevented from ball play by being tackled. It was a very active and challenging game. Points were scored when the ball was successfully dunked into the opposite teams goal/basket. Alex had combined all of his favorite sports!

Noma had gone inside to help Jillian. They stayed busy for a while talking and having tea. Then they prepared some snacks . They both came out on either side of a large a tray of beverages and finger food for everyone just as a great roar of half cheer and half objection rose up.

It seemed Asencha was incensed because Alex had added dimensional jump to the 'ARCS' game, foiling her part in a crucial play. She flew past Alex and issued a tail swat to his head in retaliation. Jillian shouted into the group, "No rules that exclude a participant from play." Noma chimed in, "Fair play, Alex!" So the group huddled to discuss the matter.

There were squawks and Alex thwacked Asencha's tail feathers. She chased him and beaked him on the head. Their rough housing ended with Michael's amused, "Enough, you two! Come… come, we'll make a new rule." The conclave of participants decided to make it possible for a player on either team to employ dimensional jump but only when those specific two were involved in play and not against any other players. Everyone agreed to the new game rules and the group played on.

Gabriel smiled inside and out, so delighted at this miracle and to be a part of it. The miracle of family and home was no small thing. He had always craved that sense of family and here it lay before him against all odds.

Extermination Wars, The Lucifer Armageddon, The Darkness attack by Alex resulting in he and Michael being locked away in the place between the place between places, Michael's year long journey and duty performed in time before time began. Michael and Jillian's having been secreted away in time, The Darkness Wars. So much of that could have permanently broken their family ties.

Michael and Gabriel had made certain everyone had been apprised of what had caused The Darkness Wars. Gabriel announced Michael was not nor had ever been "The Destroyer". He admitted his illness and his cure by his brother's depth of love for him and for all. He wanted to name Michael a savior, as he truly had been. Michael declined the honor but as time passed, some still thought of him as a savior. If they called him that, Michael would correct them, saying "No, I am simply a brother to my twin."

Jillian had rebuilt the beautiful residence Michael treasured sharing with her while Michael convalesced and masterminded rebuilding of the Silver City along with Gabriel. He was glad to help rebuild some of what his Darkness madness had caused him to destroy.

Gabriel remembered that he had celebrated his and Michael's next Making Day after The Darkness Wars, with Jillian and Michael and was there to see Michael's joy when Jillian presented Michael his gift…this rebuilt home he loved. Raphael had restored the land as he'd been restoring all of the ravaged creation Gabriel had left in his wake. Raphael had made special effort to make the restored Clair Mount even more exceptional.

He'd even created a unique tree to honor Jillian and Michael. It was a blend of a Bald Cypress , a nearly extinct tree, and a Live Oak, a symbol of their strength and flexibility through adversity. It stood sentinel, now grown over the past four years to a height of 25 feet, over the path into the evergreen forest to represent their eternity. Gabriel recalled Michael was quite moved that day by his family's love and had given hugs all around.

Michael had left the "ARCS" game during a time out and walked over to Gabriel with a drink for him. They sat quietly for a moment on two ornately carved wooden benches that faced one another over a low table that was made of a slice of an ancient and long fallen sequoia. This spot under the boughs of a living great sequoia was a favorite spot of Gabriel's. It was one of few living things that had seen as much of this land and its history as he had.

Michael needed to say something to his brother and this was a good time and a good place to enjoin the subject. He had never recovered from the idea that had been raised when he had the spiritual experience of witnessing his Making narrated by 'Mother'. Whether or not the experience had entirely shown him a reality, he still was not certain. There was part of what he experienced then he felt must be addressed.

He wanted to be certain that, if it had been a truth, he could help ease the sense of it for his brother. "Gabriel," Michael began as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees to be closer to his brother, "I must apologize to you. I feel that in many ways, over the course of our existence, I have been a burden to you. I realize I have been trying at times, but it is important to me that you know, you have my gratitude, my respect and my love."

"Michael, brother, we have each been in our turns difficult in some way to the other but you have never been a burden to me; a challenge but never a burden. I can't imagine you would think such a thing. You must know, nothing I said or did by The Darkness was real of my true thoughts and feelings." Gabriel watched his brother struggle for a moment with whether or not to say more. Suddenly he realized the misconception's root, as Michael had given hinting accounts over the years of their Making experience and his replay of it during the ordeal of becoming cure for his Darkness infection.

Gabriel wanted Michael reassured of his true feelings for him. "Michael, hear me well. My only burden where you are concerned would be to be without you. That has been true from the moment of our awakening consciousness. Any thought to the contrary would be born of a web of lies forced upon us falsely. We are part of one another, family; a thing for which I am eternally grateful."

Michael looked at his brother searching for any indication he may not be being entirely honest. There was no evidence to his relief and great joy. "As am I, Gabriel. Let's join our family." The brothers talked cordially as they walked back to the main group until they reached Jillian. She embraced them both in a three way bear hug. As they broke from that moment, Michael and Jillian shared loving glance.

Michael raised his hand and brushed Jillian's cheek with great affection just as Alex flew in low to tackle his father to the ground, as "ARCS" play had resumed. Black wings and white wings rustled and wrestling ensued. Both were laughing as Michael tried to survive the dual attack of Alex's pin and Diamond's face licking.

Michael managed to stand amidst laughter, then drew his sword raising it high as a signal to the family. The ball game was abandoned and swordplay took its place. Michael-Gabriel and I jousted - one aboard Atheleta one astride of Adonis. The joust winner chose team members first. The whole family engaged in the mock battle. It was their favorite pastime. There would be nicks and bruises, but no serious failings. Nothing I's gel or Raphael couldn't fix.

The air and the entire estate were the game field. First to achieve the objective, the barn 'sanctuary', would win the bulk of points. Every sword match engaged en route and won by a touch to the opponent was a point won. They were all adept. Ladienne and General Dianna were referees and score keepers. The General would give extra points for ingenious tactics which would break any ties.

There was laughter and argument and tousling and general brilliance to the play. The team Gabriel was on won the day and he laughed heartily as Michael and the team he was on entered the barn sanctuary one half second after he and Julian had made landfall there. Michael threw his blades over his shoulder and in mock disgust folded his arms across his chest, trying not to smile. The blades neatly seated in their sheaths at either hip, where he had intended their destination.

Michael and Gabriel shook hands as other team members gave wing high fives and other congratulations. With the mock battle game completed and I's gel and Raphael's first aid already healing any scrapes, everyone wandered indoors. A few, including Michael and Jillian, Michael's arms about her shoulders, both of hers wrapped about his waist, her head resting at his shoulder, paused to watch as the sun took its light into plays of abstract strokes of gradient brilliant to subdued color bursts as it sank into the west. Inevitably, some of the losing team argued their side should have been the victor as they streamed into the back door of the home.

The night had worn on in pleasant passing after the sharing of a meal they all participated in preparing . The children had gathered the vegetables, I had chopped them and General Dianne had roasted the potatoes and corn at the outdoor grill. Ladienne had used the roasted potatoes to prepare a roasted potato salad with her special dressing.

Michael made a ratatouille and also fresh blood sausage for I. Gabriel had prepared several roast chickens and had roasted the beets for Raphael's salad. Alex broiled the fish he'd caught in the river at the property's edge before arriving. Jillian had made fresh angel hair pasta and tossed it with garlic, herbs and olive oil and topped it with grated cheese.

Noma took some of the corn General Dianne had prepared and made a Cajun maque choux to serve over the broiled fish. Julien provided the dessert - vanilla and chocolate cream puffs he'd gotten from a little bakery in New Paris that morning. Raphael had prepared the mixed baby greens salad with roasted beets and pine nuts and had brought the wines.

Adonis and Atheleta had dined on fine alfalfa, Diamond got a bowl of his favorite, rabbit stew and Asencha had the fish Alex prepared raw for her. Sated, this entire extraordinary family sat by a roaring fire in the great room. The entire eastern side of the great room opened onto a huge veranda, so that even though everyone was indoors, the crisp night openly joined in and the creature friends could come and go as they pleased.

Michael played his latest piano composition on the elegant grand piano, accompanied by the gentle sound of the house brook's meanderings until Gabriel added a muted trumpet to the music. It was a beautiful; gentle, moving and ethereal music which told of the pursuit of the soul for joy.

Jillian was called on next. She sang for her family the song she'd written in time as she searched for Michael and found and lost him again and again. She called it "Rivers in Time". When she'd finished, Michael thought he wanted the evening with family to close. He had other intentions he wished to share with his mate…in private. He whispered his desire to Jillian.

She had encouraged him to hold sway to enjoy the comradery of family. At first, reluctantly, he did. But as he watched the interaction of his family and felt the depth of joy that gave, he realized how right she had been. There would be eternity for them to share, but never would their children be this age again to share this kind of discovery of life and simple pleasures.

After things had settled to a gentle quiet, Jillian nestled to Michael and with her cheek to his, she whispered into his ear that she had news. Michael leaned his head away to look at her questioningly. She resumed her place at his cheek and whispered into his ear. "Our love has borne a new miracle, beloved. Soon, our family gathering will be one larger. I am with child." Michael pulled her away from him to read her eyes for their truth. She smiled and nodded it was true. He was overjoyed and made no secret of it.

Michael stood and raised her up and spun her then pulled her to him and kissed her long and deeply. She bent to a graceful arch of her back as Michael leaned to her lips holding her to his embrace. A bit of raised eyebrows at his unusual display of 'public' passion required he quickly announce to the family their new addition. He swept her up right in a delightful swirl as he spoke, "Jilli-an has just informed me. We are to be parents once again!" He wanted to pull her to him again, but the family swarmed them in joyful congratulations.

As Champagne was served, Gabriel's joy heralded creation of the new child of their Most Honored Jilli-an and their Great Archangel Michael who was quickly becoming known as The Source in many circles. It was becoming his newest duty, his new title after Advent of Salvation. It was appropriate.

Michael had been the source of mankind's last savior, Alex. He'd been the source of Jillian's release from her bound life as a human. Though he had not taken advantage of the opportunity, Michael had been the source for Lucifer's salvation from his insanity to become heir to his Father's dominion.

Despite his objection to being called a savior, Michael had also been the source of creation's salvation from Gabriel's illness and Gabriel's cure. His new god matrix made him the source of many things; new creations of man and beast, new cities and new hope for all of creation as he steered them in the temporary absence of his Father and Mother.

One day, Gabriel knew, it would be known Michael was The Source of all there was. For now, only he knew that. Although Michael was the creation of his Parents, Michael had also been their source; a beautiful, elegant plan of construct. It was perfection, Gabriel thought to himself.

Michael's mate, First of the First Ones, was becoming known as Foundation of Ascension as it was becoming known that mankind may ascend in a similar way as she had- in time - though they were not aware that they too, were Father and Mother's born children, bound until their maturity to rebirth by ascension. Jillian was also known as Mother of Angelicman. She served the last title further even now.

While she fielded congratulations, Jillian thought back on her Mother's gift, the prophecy that her and Michael's child would be mate to the child of the Chosen One. Michael-Gabriel and L'ann (daughter of Alex and Raphael) had formed an inseparable bond. Raphael had shared with Jillian the name of L'ann's father. She thought it best that the child's whole parentage be known.

Father had left Raphael a scroll giving leave to share the information when Jillian returned from bound lives. Raphael still had not told Alex and had asked that she be allowed to share that with him in her time. .Jillian had told Michael of their adopted child's parentage. He was pleased that they raised and nurtured their grandchild, but thought that Alex should know. Jillian had told him that was for Raphael to decide, not him. He let the subject rest. He wouldn't fight Jillian and Raphael's wishes. He hoped Alex would understand. Family could be complicated.

So it was happening as her Mother had prophesied, that her and Michael's child and the child of the Chosen One were becoming a pair. Jillian was certain Michael-Gabriel and L'ann would be mated one day. She hoped that by then Raphael would have shared their child's history with Alex. He deserved to know and to share in L'ann's joys. But she understood the difficult dynamic with Alex and Noma. Still truth will out despite all. She hoped it would be a joyous revelation for Alex.

Jillian had finished her internal musings just as Alexa had finished a hug of celebration with I and saw opportunity to go to Jillian. She set out as if drawn by summons and walked to Jillian with intensity of focus. She placed her hands on the belly of the Mother of Angelicman. She whispered sweetly in pledge to the child within . "We will be good to one another, I promise."

Jillian watched in amazement. She wondered, now that she bore another child with Michael, would Alexa , daughter of The Chosen One and Noma, be mates with that child? It appeared a strong possibility. Jillian thought that this was a sound beginning to the blended children of her Father and Mother. She smiled at Alexa and placed her hand on the beautiful child's head. "What a lovely thing to say, Alexa." Alexa smiled sweetly then ran to hug her dear L'ann with happiness in her heart. There was great sharing of joy and celebration, not only in this warm, serene residence, but throughout creation thanks to Gabriel's heralding.

Jillian watched her mate interact with their family. She loved him with such depth and complexity there needed to be a new word to label it. Not least among his character, she loved his compassion. She had been so proud of him when he'd told her he instructed Gabriel to tell all, as Messenger, that I was a new creation and his offspring by hosting. He had made I his legitimate child and he had openly been Father to I. In doing so, Michael had made I more likely to have acceptance, though his way was still difficult.

Jillian also knew soon, Michael would be host to a new Ruptling. Michael could not bear that I was alone so he had arranged a suitable Welrupt to host another of his kind. While Welrupt's ordinarily reproduced asexually, it had become clear that I could not. I was at once male and female, but there was no way for I to generate offspring alone. I required a mate or I would forever be singular.

Now, Jillian watched as Michael gave I the news that there would soon be a companion like unto I's self. The news was music to I's soul. I showered Michael in hugs and trilled in excitement. I was telling Michael I would guide the infant so that his hosting would not be as difficult as theirs had been. "I can even instruct the Ruptling to anesthetize feedings. Michael said to I, "Regardless, I wish to do this and I thank you, that you would participate in such a generous way. I welcome it, my child."

"The generosity is yours My Kal and I love you for it all the more. New-I will be a beautiful creation, Father!"

Jillian joined the two of them then and said, "Gabriel will have to announce a Birth of Viable Species once there are two." Michael told Jillian, "I has already given a name to their line, 'Welarch'."

"Excellent choice! Will you miss not being singular, I?" The family matriarch inquired.

"No, Jilli-an! I welcome the loss of singularity with all my heart! I will have a Champagne to celebrate! "

"You will wait until you are old enough, young 'Welarch'!" Jillian chastised.

"Please, everyone," Michael called to the family for their attention. It didn't take much, they had heard I's excitement and were anxious to know the reason. "Our family will grow again in another way and soon. I will be joined by one of I's own kind. I has named their line 'Welarch' and another will be borne of hosting as was I to add to I's species." When the news of the plan to make I no longer the only one, that Michael was to host I's kind again, registered, eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise and lips curled into smiles of joy once more.

Michael-Gabriel was first to shake his Father's hand. "Father, you are a constant joy to our family. What a happy surprise!" He turned from shaking his Father's hand to embrace I. "Brother, I'm overjoyed to see your kind grow in number, you are a wonder and most loved as will be our new Welarch sibling."

The crush of family broke Michael-Gabriel from his thoughtful congratulations to more raucous congratulations by Alex and Julien and Noma and L'ann and the rest. More champagne was uncorked. Gabriel slipped I a glass of champagne, covertly. I laughed and said, "Uncle, you are ever the renegade." Gabriel laughed and quipped as he gave way to Raphael, "Someone has to be the life of the party!"

As I lifted the champagne to lips, Raphael swooped it away and downed the temptation. "When you are older, I, you will appreciate it more fully." Jillian smiled at Raphael's quick thwart of Gabriel's plot to subvert the rules of sensible tutelage. She thought the walls of this home might burst from the joy it contained…but there was more.

Shortly after Michael had told I of his hosting news, Asencha introduced her new mate, a stunning eagle she admitted was as wise and generous as she, evidence she truly loved him. "Please, my dear ones, it is my pleasure to acquaint you. Meet Kazon, mate of my heart." The beautiful eagle flew in on que to cheers and ahh's.

Alex approached after L'ann had released her embrace of her dear Asencha. Asencha dreaded the mischief Alex might cause but was deeply pleased when Alex respectfully gave Kazon a wing salute. Alex did often torment Asencha but only because he had special affection for the exceptional eagle. "I want to wish you and Kazon every happiness, Asencha." Alex said as he gave salute and so paid her new mate great honor. Kazon returned the salute grateful he was accepted by Asencha's greatest critic and warmest friend.

The family gave them blessings and other well wishes and each in their own way welcomed Kazon to the 'nest'. The new pair told everyone that they planned their journey to the Sacred Bloom next week and announced their intention to nest in Raphael's new species of tree, as it was strong and of suitable height and flexibility to be safe home for their family. Their news met with fulsome approval.

In between the activities, the meal, announcements and the love, Michael and Jillian would sit arm in arm. In a break from her duties as hostess, now she snuggled in his lap as this family told one another stories and engaged in reenactments of recent and ancient happenings to better remember and to share with one another their exceptional lives. Lives of struggle, duty, pain, joy, loss and discovery. Lives in which they were interwoven in a grand plan of their Father and Mother's making. It was a plan that advanced them all in remarkable ways in plays of drama and tragedy, in heights of glory and depths of despair. It was an elegant intricacy, a flowing symphony of life in which they all had been, and knew they would always be, in one way or another, each other's and their world's salvation. ~*~


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